The First Annual Hunger Games
by Starboy6
Summary: The four year Rebellion of the Thirteen Districts of Panem has failed. District Thirteen is now a desolate wasteland. "Peacekeepers" have taken over and are now running a tight ship. Darian Hale, son of the District Two rebel leader, thinks that this is the end, but he has no idea what is in store when the Capitol comes up with their ultimate form of punishment.
1. The Fall of the Rebellion

**Fall of the Rebellion**

Darian Hale stood a step behind his father at the District Two train station. Tonight was the final meeting between the thirteen District leaders before the final strike. Tonight would mark the beginning of the end; the end of the Capitol reign and the end of President Jonah Cross. Four years the Districts had been in rebellion and it seemed like the struggle would never end. But soon, Darian knew, the fight would be over. A new era would arise with new leaders.

The train came quickly and twelve men and women exited, standing in a straight line facing Gregory Hale. They all saluted, hints and sparks of smiles on each of their faces. Tonight was a night of celebration.

The last off the train was a young blonde woman. One Darian knew quite well. She looked around and then spotted him. A smile breaking on her usually stern face, she ran to him and threw her arms around him. Kelsa Foley had accompanied her father, as usual and Darian wasn't the least bit upset about it.

"It's been too long," she whispered in his ear, loosening his grip a slight bit.

"Only a month," he replied with a smile, wrapping his arms around her as well, "So not that long…"

The group followed his father towards the town hall which was already set up for them all with blueprints of the Capitol. The main route of the attack was drawn out in a multitude of colors, each representing each District.

Kelsa and Darian were not invited to the official meeting, but that didn't stop them from finding a way into it anyways. It was the roof of the town hall this time. Kelsa scaled the drainpipe easily and Darian followed with a little more struggle. She let out a small giggle and then offered him a hand to pull him up over the edge. Being from District Seven she was a lot more accustomed to climbing things since she spent most of her time in trees.

Kelsa quietly opened a top window which was the perfect avenue for them to sit in on the meeting. Staying silent, they sat and listened to what came from below.

Not even five minutes into the meeting the rebel leaders were all arguing. There were boisterous shouts and a few undermining insults thrown out; one which Darian had to put his hand over Kelsa's mouth to keep her from laughing. Her father was always quick with the slights.

Finally, the calm voice of a woman from Six brought them all back from their heads (or asses more like) and back on track. It was decided that a group would go by train and multiple groups would go by foot. The takeover of the Capitol would be top stealth. They would never know the rebels were coming…

The meeting was longer than anything Darian or Kelsa had ever suffered through. Kelsa was prepared and brought out a deck of cards which kept them occupied until the meeting came to an end. All the preparations were set. In two days time, the attack would commence.

Before starting back down the drainpipe, Kelsa laid back and stared up at the midnight sky. "I can't believe it will finally be over," she said softly.

Darian agreed with a nod. "It's been too long though. In four years we have done amazing things. We deserve this."

It was true. In four years they had captured back control of the train systems, telegram and telephone systems, most of the food and agriculture. In four years the Districts had been mostly liberated from the tyranny of the Capitol.

"We do," she said, almost sadly, "You need to come visit me all the time in District Seven… if it will even be called that."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She sighed and then looked over at him, "I mean that I won't have an excuse to come and visit you, and you won't have an excuse to come and visit me. We need to keep in touch."

"I know that, I meant with the name thing."

She rolled over on her stomach, her eyes becoming lit with excitement, "I had this idea that all the Districts would rename themselves. Numbers are so boring, and since we would no longer be part of the Capitol…"

He smiled at the idea. Kelsa was a cool girl. "I get it… what would you name District Seven?"

She thought for a moment and then looked at him, "Norlyn."

He let out a quick laugh and tried to cover it with a cough, "Norlyn? Why Norlyn?"

"Well we are the Northern most District, and I think it's pretty." She raised her hands as if she were reaching for the stars above them.

"Norlyn," he repeated, "It's growing on me."

"Of course it is, I came up with it." She sat up and turned to him, "And what would you choose for District Two?"

He shook his head, unable to come up with something off the top of his head. "No idea. Let's hope that doesn't become my duty when this whole thing is over."

"Strong Valley," she said, "That's what I would name it."

"Yeah? Why Strong Valley?" He didn't hate the name, and he really couldn't think of anything better.

"Because," she started, moving his chin towards the further towering mountains that loomed in the west, "You have always been _this_ close to the Capitol. You are the strong valley that had held up against the Capitol even though you two are neighbors."

He didn't know exactly where in those beasts of mountains the Capitol sat, but he knew it was there, perfectly protected and ignorant to what was coming for them.

"Strong Valley… it's perfect."

"Kelsa!" A stern voice called from below. Kelsa collected her cards, placed them in her pocket and then flew down the drainpipe.

She looked up to him, "Soon we will be free, Darian."

He held up a hand, a goodbye of sorts they had discovered when they first met. "I'll come to Norlyn. First thing I'll do when this all blows over."

She smiled at him and held up her own hand before disappearing into the darkness and down the street towards the train.

Three weeks passed and Darian heard nothing from his father, or any of the rebels for that matter. There was just silence. He had learned earlier that usually silence was never a good thing. So had his mother, who had retreated to constant cleaning to ease her nerves. He had faith in his father but it was unbelievably hard to hold it when there continued to be no change… no change at all.

Three weeks ago was insanely different than this day. Three weeks ago, the buzz of excitement shot through the crowd faster than it took a match to light. Groups of people stood out in front of town hall biding their loved ones goodbye as the rebels loaded up the trains and headed for the Capitol.

Now there was just silence. A sort of defeat wafted through the air. But they hadn't been defeated. They had been winning, people were just too easily discouraged. Sacking a city couldn't happen overnight.

Darian never remembered hearing the squeal of the trains, but somehow, they came. And what they brought was so devastating, he could never have been prepared for it.

Their door was kicked down and a gun pointed in both of their faces.

"Hands up!" A man in a complete white suit shouted. Capitol Soldiers. Before giving either Darian or his mother a chance to react, the soldier fired, smashing out the windows of their family home.

"Move!"

They both fell to the ground, Darian remember looking over to his mother to see if she was alright. After being ushered back up, another soldier came in with a different gun, one Darian had never seen before. He took his mom's hand and led her from their home, making sure they weren't separated.

The sight outside was one he could never erase from his mind. A large video screen had been set up in front of the town hall building, Capitol Soldiers were every few feet either pointing a gun at someone, or ordering more people out of their homes. Darian was shoved forward by the soldier behind him. Children were screaming and crying, people were being forced to small quarters, keep their heads down.

Being herded like cattle, the masses of District Two were brought to the town square and forced on their knees, bowing before the large projection screen that now displayed the Capitol insignia.

"Put your hands on your head! Hands on your head!"

The shouts rang throughout the crowd, coming from the soldiers in white. His mother's shaking hands moved to her head and Darian followed her. He wouldn't be the reason someone was shot and killed. Darian did a quick calculation and saw that at least fifty soldiers surrounded them, their new guns pointed towards the crowd ready to fire at the smallest provocation.

The screen flickered and showed the new image of President Cross. Darian's stomach sank, finally, as he registered what had happened. They had attacked the Capitol and the Capitol was attacking back.

" _Citizens of Panem_."

The speakers rang clearly throughout all of District Two and Darian couldn't help but shiver. There was nothing forgiving in his voice.

" _While you were sending your forces to your precious Capitol, we were sending ours out to you_."

The screen flashed to show multiple planes and helicopters flying across the sky and then went back to President Cross.

" _Rebellion will not be tolerated. It is time your Capitol stepped in and ended this once and for all_."

The screen flashed back to the aerial view, and Darian saw the landscape of District Thirteen. His heart pounded as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. The picture stayed the same and the citizens of Panem watched the Capitol planes approach District Thirteen as the President spoke once again.

" _We will do whatever is necessary to reunite the Districts of Panem under the Capitol. Consider the Rebellion done and over_."

The picture was perfectly clear as the first bomb dropped.

The fall was too long and Darian wanted to look away but was glued to the screen.

It hit the ground with a fury of a million gods all channeled into one spot. The explosion of the first bomb ripped through the rebellion as if it were a piece of paper.

Bomb after bomb tore District Thirteen to pieces. Numbness slowly took over Darian as he watched the destruction and the pure evil of the Capitol. On his knees, bowing to the man he now despised most in this world, Darian watched as the last bomb was dropped. It was basically unnecessary as what used to be District Thirteen was now a wasteland of ash.

The last thing he saw before the screen went black was a picture of their Town Hall building in ruins.

Four years it took them to get where they were and the Capitol shut them down in fifteen minutes. The Rebellion had failed.


	2. The Punishment

**The Punishment**

(one year later)

Darian threw a dagger into the nearest tree. He was breathing heavily already, he walked over and yanked it out, before tossing it into another. He was getting better at this, each and every day he practiced.

Too much had changed within the last year.

That fateful day when District Thirteen turned to ash was enough to blow the thoughts of Rebellion out of people's minds for decades. Capitol soldiers, or what they called "peacekeepers" came in and took over the entirety of District Two. They split up the District Two citizens into smaller villages which surrounded the main mountain. They infiltrated the mountain and made it into a factory of sorts. Every boy eighteen years of age or older was required to work there by their new law. They produce weapons. All sorts of weapons. Weapons to hold the citizens down…to keep the threat at bay.

There will not be another rebellion.

Or so that's what everyone was told.

District Two had become a sort of colony of the Capitol. Never had Darian seen more people from the Capitol before. He heard nothing of what it was like in the other Districts. He had heard nothing from his father. It was just him, this forest, the dagger in his hand, and the constant eyes of the Capitol.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Darian threw the dagger into the tree.

"You know you should go up higher."

A voice spoke out from behind him, Darian tensed. He could be severely punished if he was caught with an unauthorized weapon. But every weapon these days was unauthorized. Only peacekeepers had weapons. He turned and saw an old friend of his, pale as ever from being locked away in the factories.

"Max," he breathed out. That was almost too close. "Peacekeepers don't come up here."

Maxwell Jensen was the boy who lived across the street from him now, since he and his mother had been moved. Apparently, his father never came back from the Capitol raid either, but Max was a sly character and Darian didn't know how much he believed. The day Max had turned eighteen he was shipped off to the mountain. He became a factory worker and it was on rare occasion that Darian ever saw Max again.

That was until Max snuck out his first dagger. Darian couldn't say how he did it, but he did. 'Security was still spotty' was the only explanation Darian ever got from him. He chose Darian to keep the dagger saying that he 'looked like someone who could handle it'. That day, they snuck into the small forest that surrounded them and took their first go at throwing it. Both were miserable at it, but they kept up with it.

Max shrugged, "I'm just trying to protect you. Besides, I got another. Let's go up further."

Darian couldn't hide his expression. It was all too good. It was how he could take out his anger, his hatred for Cross and the Capitol. Right under their noses he would become an expert at their weapons. And it was all because he could, in fact, handle it. The beginnings of a plot to find his father brewed in the back of his head, but he tried not to let them get a hold on his mind. A scheme like that would surely equal death.

"What did you get?" It was a simple question that he asked as he moved further into the forest. "Surely not one of those guns, mm?"

Max shook his head from a few trees over. "Another dagger. I'm working on getting something bigger though."

"And what is that?" He stuck the dagger in the belt he had created for it and then jumped up and grabbed the closest tree branch. He swung on it for a moment or two before swinging his legs up over it and squatting on the branch. Kelsa would be proud.

He shook his thoughts from the girl, not wanting to think about what might have happened to her.

"A sword." The prideful look on Max's face was too bright to miss.

Darian whipped out the dagger and threw it into the tree near Max. "When do you think you will have it?"

Max flinched a bit but played it off cool. "Not sure yet… and you are getting too good at that."

He stood triumphantly on the branch and then jumped down, landing a little less than gracefully on his feet. "I'm working on it. I'm out here every day."

Max pulled the dagger from the tree and spun it around. "Getting good at throwing something smaller than a kitchen knife won't bring your father back. They are both prisoners of a dictator now."

Darian held out his hand as Max returned the dagger. "I know, but this is all I have left of him. He wouldn't be keeping his head down… and neither should I."

Max stared at him and then nodded slowly. "This storm isn't over, Darian, don't get caught up in the worst of it…" With a final pat on his back he stalked off to the smallest of clearings and pulled out the new dagger he stole.

Darian sighed and looked up. His father was most likely dead.

The only thing that could be heard at dinner was the clink of their forks against their plates at dinner. Dinners were all too silent these days. His mother was beginning to get out of her cleaning to ease the nerves phase and into her drinking to numb the pain phase. It wasn't often that he saw it, but more often than before, he would come home to see a bottle open.

"So how was your day?" she asked, attempting to sound normal. The hints in her voice spoke otherwise.

"Fine." His tone was just as pleasant, though he felt the way she did.

She smiled at him, some sincerity behind it and then shoveled the last bit of rice into her mouth. He half smiled back and then looked at his own plate. He was less hungry now.

He stood and was about to clean up his plate when his mother's hand shot out and gripped his arm.

"Please sit." She said, some desperation in her tone.

With a small sigh, he sat back down and sat with her. He couldn't help the annoyance from showing on his face. He understood the reasoning, but he could barely handle her clinging to him.

She looked up at him, tears filling to the brim in her eyes. As she opened her mouth to say something, she was promptly interrupted by the crackle of their television turning on. They both turned their attention to the box as the Capitol insignia showed. It was rare that this happened and he could already feel his heart pounding.

" _Citizens of Panem_."

Cross' chilled voice rang throughout Darian's home as if the President himself was standing in his living room.

" _In honor of the year anniversary of the reunion of Panem, tomorrow a special representative from your Capitol will be visiting each and every district. It will be mandatory that each citizen report to their Justice Building dressed in their finest clothing for the visit tomorrow morning promptly by ten a.m._ "

Darian clenched his fists at the sight of the man. He had obviously had Capitol work done since he looked like he was in his thirties. Everyone knew he was older than that…fifty at least. It was becoming a new thing in the Capitol, being as young and flashy as possible.

" _Anyone who does not attend will face punishment for treason and conspiracy against your Capitol_."

His image disappeared and the Capitol insignia reappeared. After a few long pauses of silence, the television shut off.

Darian and his mother stared at the television screen for what felt like ten minutes and then he saw her put her hand over her heart. "Tomorrow is the day…"

She couldn't continue.

"I know. Tomorrow is the anniversary of the…" end of District Thirteen he was going to say, but couldn't bring himself to say it.

She collected herself and then kissed Darian on the cheek. "I better go find your best outfit."

Treason… conspiracy… Max's words replayed in his head about another storm not being over just yet and suddenly he didn't think that Max was so crazy.

The overcast of the morning should have been a warning about what the day would hold, but as Darian and Darla Hale walked from their small District Two home towards the Justice Building (what used to be the town hall until the fall of the rebellion) they were completely unaware about what was to become of the day.

Their steps were almost march like as they joined a group of the others walking towards the center of town. There was only two other times that they had gathered as such: the bombing of Thirteen and when the new regulations were introduced after the peacekeepers took over.

Before they even had a moment to think they were being separated into two lines, one for men and one for women. Even though the lines were not but a few yards away, Darian already looked over to see his mother. She had lost too much of her strength since his dad's disappearance and he felt uncomfortable leaving her by herself with the Capitol people around. A peace keeper sat behind a table with a booklet in front of him, and Darian started debating what exactly was in it. Why were they in these lines?

As he approached the front of the line, he stepped forward and the peacekeeper held out his hand. "Your name?"

Darian hesitated and then looked around him. "Uh… Darian Hale."

"Your age?"

Darian looked to the guy behind him who had his head down. Coward. "Seventeen."

The peacekeeper held out his hand. "Your hand."

Again, Darian hesitated. "What is this for?"

"Give me your hand."

His voice was deep and stern and after a final debate he held out his hand. With a small device, the peacekeeper pricked his finger and then smeared his blood across a box on the booklet. Darian flinched and pulled his finger back, feeling like he should have been given a warning. He put pressure on the spot to keep it from bleeding. The peacekeeper used some technology Darian had never seen to scan his blood sample. It made a small ding which must've been a good sign, because he was ordered to pass into the town square.

His mind wandered back to the stories Max would tell him about using District citizens as lab rats in the Capitol. Is that where his blood sample would go? To President Cross?

He could feel his anxiety beginning to creep up on him and he pressed it down as best he could. He would not give the Capitol that much control of him. Finding is mother, who was holding her own finger, he worked his way to the center of the crowd. He felt it was best that they stayed as inconspicuous as possible on a day like today.

A woman in the most flamboyantly pink dress stood up on the steps of the Justice Building. Her hair was styled in such a way that Darian had a hard time believing it was real, and he wondered just who told her that was beautiful.

She stood like a statue up at the front of the crowd just waiting until the moving of the crowd died down. As the square became silent she let out a long breath. "Happy Union!" She said, far too enthusiastically for the audience in front of which she stood.

Composing herself again she kept her smile and took another breath. Stress release tactic he assumed. "Welcome each and every one of you. This is such a momentous day."

As she spoke Darian couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. What was so great about today? Surely not even she was dumb enough to think that people in the Districts would celebrate the anniversary of their failure? As the words ran through his head he realized that that was just what was happening. They were being made to celebrate their defeat. He gritted his teeth at the idea of it all.

"Before we get started I have a video from your Capitol." She stepped back so that the screen could be seen in full and the Capitol insignia shown once more.

The video was, of course, in President Cross' voice. He spoke deeply and Darian could hear the sadistic nature that was Jonah Cross.

" _Exactly one year ago, your Capitol ended a heinous rebellion that threatened the entire nation of Panem and reunited us all once more…_ "

He went on to talk about what the rebellion would have done should it have prevailed and the pride he showed made Darian sick. The Districts were nothing like the Capitol and no one benefitted from the citizen's work but the Capitol who did nothing.

" _To commemorate such a victory the Capitol has designed a competition for the twelve Districts. Each District will offer up one male and one female competitor between the ages of twelve and eighteen to go to the Capitol and compete against one another in the games…_ "

Darian caught the back of Max's head and he cursed himself for not listening more closely to his ramblings about the Capitol. Each second that passed, an empty feeling began to settle in his stomach.

" _The winner will return home with glory for their district…_ "

His mind swirled with the possibilities of these games. What would the contestants have to do to win? Physical or mental tasks? Maybe both?

Before he could focus back in from his thoughts, the screen showed the Capitol insignia again and then went black. The woman stepped back up, her smile even brighter this time. "One lucky boy and one lucky girl from this District will accompany me to the Capitol and compete in this competition."

Everyone looked around slightly, trying not to be too obvious about their blatant curiosity about who would be chosen and how the deciding would take place.

Two large glass bowls were brought to either side of the Capitol woman and she reached in and ran her hand through strips of paper that were in there. "How about we start with the boy?"

Her left hand gripped a piece of paper tightly and she opened it up. The crowd was in dead silence as her eyes scanned the paper and she leaned in towards the microphone. "Darian Hale."

He didn't recognize his own name at first. It wasn't until he felt his mother's grip tighten around his arm that he realized he was the chosen one for the competition.

"Darian? Where are you?"

The crowd in front of him seemed to find him in an instance and parted, leaving her a path straight to him.

"Ah, there you are. Come on up here."

A couple of peacekeepers gave him no choice in the matter. They surrounded him in an instant and forced his feet to move towards the Justice Building steps. Standing next to the Capitol woman was surreal. Looking out on the crowd of District Two he could see everything. The storm was not over. The rebellion had started something that the Districts would suffer for, for years to come.

"Very nice, very nice. Now for the girl."

She reached her hand into the bowl on the right and pulled out another strip of paper. Darian swore he could hear the heartbeats of everyone in the audience. Like a collected breath that was held by each individual as she opened up that little piece of paper and read the name aloud.

"Iraria Rosewood!"

"NO!"

The shout was a painful one.

Darian looked towards the direction of Steven Rosewood and saw him shielding his daughter as the peacekeepers made way towards her.

"Step aside, Sir," the woman said in a sweet tone.

"She's thirteen!" he shouted. "Take me instead! Please!"

"That's not how this competition works, now step aside. She is of age, and was chosen."

The peacekeepers needed no more of a command than that. The look on Steven's face was one of the worst things Darian had seen as his daughter was pulled out from behind him and practically dragged up on stage.

Her small body was shaking as she stood up in front of everyone. Peacekeepers stood all around Steven and there were actual tears in his eyes.

Darian's feet moved before he even had the chance to think things through. He walked over to her and took her hand. Giving her the best look of encouragement he looked out to Steven. He didn't know what they would be made to do in the Capitol games, but he would make sure Iraria made it back in one piece.

Steven got the message and although it was not what he wanted for his daughter, it was the best Darian could offer him.

Iraria squeezed his hand and he saw her straighten up a little. He didn't know much about the girl, but he could tell already that she was tough. He saw her two little sisters waving goodbye to her in the crowd and she actually smiled at them.

There was no applause when the Capitol woman called for it. There was some time for public goodbyes which consisted of some awkward silences while Darian consoled his mother. "It'll be fine, mom." He said into her ear. "I'll be back before you know it."

Without a moment to spare, Darian and Iraria were whisked off to a new Capitol train. What the audience didn't see is that they were both handcuffed the moment they stepped on the train.


	3. President Cross

The strangest part of all was that there were absolutely no people. Darian kept a close eye on Iraria as they were both led through the train to a common sitting area. This train was nicer than the ones they had back when they possessed the train systems. They were both instructed to sit by some peacekeepers and then left mostly to themselves. There were the obvious guards and Darian was sure cameras everywhere, but they were left to think. To be alone in their own heads for the moment.

Iraria's handcuffs were too big for her wrists and she could probably slip out of them if she needed, but she didn't budge. He probably wouldn't have either, not since the development of their newest guns.

Time passed so slowly, and even though he was trying his best to keep hold of it, he couldn't concentrate. After what felt like an hour, the side door slid open and the Capitol woman walked into the room. "Very good" She said to one of the peacekeepers and then waved him out the door.

She observed the two of them and then gave a slight shake of her head. "So young… this makes things... _interesting_." She moved in front of Iraria in a couple of awkward strides and then put her hands on her handcuffs. "These are unnecessary."

A key was given to her and she released them both. "Your families will be here shortly to say goodbye to you and wish you good luck for the competition." She caught Darian's look and then added, "We are not monsters, after all."

Iraria kept her gaze on the train floor and Darian kept his on the woman.

"I'm Bristol. It is a pleasure to meet you both." Her tone was more amused than anything. Her eyes lingered a moment over Darian and then snapped to the doors as they opened.

Three little dark haired girls crowded behind a burly man whom was none other than Steven Rosewood. Darian assumed the girls were Iraria's little sisters. His mother was also there, shuffling in at the rear.

Bristol looked to the lot of them. "You have an hour. That is when the next train arrives." Without a second more to give them, she turned and left the room.

There was a long moment before the two groups met each other. Iraria was bombarded by her little sisters and Darian was pulled into a hug by him mom. He put his arms around her let out a small chuckle.

"Don't worry. We'll be back here before you know it." He said again.

In all reality, he might be knocked out first round depending on what the competition required. He didn't know how well he could keep up with some of the kids from the other districts.

She seemed less convinced, but it was understandable. The Capitol was all too good a taking things from people.

"Promise me you will be safe. I have a bad feeling about all of this." It was quiet when she said it since there were at least half a dozen peacekeepers around. "Don't do anything irrational."

Darian nodded and then sat down on the small couch. His mother sat with him and took his hands in hers. "Don't worry. I'll keep my head down and just follow rules. Besides, I need to watch out for her." He nodded his head in the direction of Iraria.

His mother sighed and nodded. "You are too much like your father."

Darian smiled at the compliment. It had been a hard year without his father. Silently he thought about the possibility of finding out what happened to his father in the Capitol. It would be risky, but could he really pass up the opportunity? "I know."

They shared a few more encouragements and a couple memories of when times were good. Darian started to wonder what was good. Things had almost always been bad.

Bristol returned within the hour and the goodbyes ended immediately.

Iraria stayed strong and didn't cry although her little sisters were in a mess, and her father was barely keeping it in. They gave final hugs and Darian hugged his mom, but things were awkward at best. There was something strange going on, they both could feel it, but neither could voice it properly.

His mother left, comforting Steven Rosewood on their way out from the train. There was quiet after that.

They sat in the train for what felt like hours. Darian actually drifted off a time or two, and felt embarrassed when he jerked awake. It made sense though sleeping had always been his escape. Iraria sat still beside him, though not once did she close her eyes. He swore she didn't blink.

A second train arrived and the whole train exploded with some sort of frenzy. The handcuffs were placed back on them both and they were both ordered to stand up and follow a group of six peacekeepers. He saw a small shiver go down Iraria's spine as she walked ahead of him.

They were ordered to walk single file to switch trains and Darian could have sworn he was a convict. Maybe if it was just him, he would have thought that was plausible. He had done enough illegal things since the Capitol takeover. But Iraria was innocent of probably everything but missing her bedtime...if she even had one. They were both practically shoved onto the second train, Darian stumbled a slight bit as the peacekeeper behind him kept a close distance.

"Keep moving."

They were brought to another sitting type area but this time it was full of other people, each of them handcuffed as well. Two chairs were empty for him and Iraria and they sat in them upon further instruction. Once seated, he was able to look around and his heart sank. He knew these people. Most especially, the blonde girl at the end of the row of chairs: Kelsa.

Next to her was a boy he hadn't ever met before. He looked around and saw too many people he was familiar with. Across from him was Nils Murray, the son of the District Eleven rebel leader. Next to him was Troy Loughty, son of the District One rebel leader. Another young one, Eamon Clay from District Ten was there. He noticed Branwen Keen and Cash Gastrell, children of the District Four and District Six leaders. He scanned each and every person in that room. Each rebel leader had a kid, or relative, in that compartment.

Suddenly the "drawing" seemed less random.

His stomach jolted at the thought of this "competition" and just as his mother had felt, he felt as well; this was not going to be some friendly competition. The Capitol was not known for kindness and mercy. And since it was clear who they were targeting, he had a feeling his dad was alive somewhere.

His eyes met Kelsa's blue ones and he noticed she wore the same expression of realization that he did. It almost looked like she has been crying. And since he had never seen her cry before, that concerned him.

It wasn't just Kelsa either. They all wore that expression, their District partners mostly unaware of the situation at hand.

This would be bad.

Bristol and five other Capitol people entered the train cabin after a small while. There seemed to be a lot of waiting around here. They said nothing, the competitors said nothing. There was just uncomfortable silence.

"Hold on tightly." One of them said, and a moment later, the train took off for the Capitol.

The train ride was not a long one from District Two. Before Darian even had the chance to prepare himself, the train came to a halt in the Capitol station. They were ordered to stay put as more peacekeepers boarded the train, guns locked and loaded.

Capitol guns pointed at them, they were all picked out in pairs (by District) and led from the cabin and off the train. They started with the two kids from District Twelve and worked their way up by District. Iraria was shaking as the group of peacekeepers ordered her and Darian up off their feet, and she complied quickly. Darian walked closely behind her so that he could catch her should her knees buckle beneath her.

If he hadn't have been so wary, Darian would have reluctantly admitted that the Capitol was quite beautiful. Tall skyscrapers stood out against the big blue sky. Everything was so spread out, that nothing seemed cramped and crowded like it was in District Two. Large metal fountains surrounded the path one which he and Iraria walked.

around.

The building that they were heading towards was a shorter one, less modern looking. The large double doors of the entrance were almost as big as the mountain exits back in District Two. Each one stood tall and bore half the Capitol insignia. He shuddered at the sight. However, they were not led through those doors, but an elevator to the side of them.

They all crammed in the space and rode it down to a bleak looking area. The other competitors were all sitting in chairs with their individual District emblems on them. The District Two seats were unoccupied. The chairs faced a plain metal wall and a large long dark curtain.

He and Iraria sat in their designated chairs and were once again succumbed to silence.

The District One competitors joined them shortly, followed by a man in a gold and black striped suit. His face was also familiar, and Darian's jaw clenched at the sound of his shoes clicking against the hard floor. President Cross was even more repulsive to Darian in person.

He paced the floor in front of them all and stroked his new beard. New because he hadn't had one the last time Darian had seen his image. It was styled in a way that would make most children giggle, but this was no place for laughter.

Finally, he faced all those from the Districts. "Welcome to the Capitol, tributes."

Silence. His voice was silky smooth in person, and Darian wondered if it had somehow been altered to be that way.

"I have waited... so long... to meet you all." His large dark eyes looked over each of them carefully, the pause causing Darian to hold his breath. His mouth twitched into a sad attempt at a smile.

Darian caught Iraria looking away.

"It is peculiar, what a rebellion can spark in people," he stated, almost to himself that anybody else. "We here in the Capitol have been... _fired up_ for the upcoming event."

He caught a few people looking to each other. President Cross's tone was not the least bit comforting.

The man laughed a small laugh and then let out a quick wheeze. "I will get to the explaining."

Darian swore Cross's eyes lingered on him a moment longer than the others.

"The lovely Caroline Rose and I had a long and hard discussion about how we could reunite the twelve districts and the Capitol again after such a split. And each of you should be honored by the amount of effort we gave to come up with the perfect solution." The spark in his eyes grew tenfold as he continued his speech. Each second he spoke, the future looked darker and darker.

"We spent months creating it, and now all of my tributes are sitting in front of me…. ready to be reunited in death, under execution from the Capitol."

It was a simultaneous motion of faces turning to shock, and a few people gasped. The boy with Kelsa was the first to say something.

"You are going to kill us?!"

Cross snorted, "Oh no. I will be doing nothing. You will be killing each other."  
Darian's heart rate sped up as the protests continued. They were quickly quieted by the overwhelming peacekeeper presence.

"Yes, that is correct." President Cross spoke again. "All of you will be thrown into an arena and forced to fight to the death."

"We won't do it!" Roy from District Nine shouted. He had an expression that would kill. "You can't force us."

"I can make you do anything. I am the President. And I have _incentives_."

It took only a snap of his fingers before the nearest peacekeeper pulled back the large dark curtain in front of them.

Behind it stood twelve adults. All twelve rebel leaders.

Again, it was the expressions that brought Darian even deeper into darkness. His father was right there in front of him, tied up as a hostage. He could feel the pain that his father was feeling. They each had hoped better for each other than the current circumstances; he was in chains and Darian was in handcuffs.

His lower lip quivered and his tear ducts threatened to activate. And even though he wished he was able, he couldn't tear his eyes from his father's.

"You will do what I want. When I put all twenty-four of you into that arena, you can be assured that only one of you will be walking out."

He took one last look at them before walking out of the room.

The silence was almost heart-stopping. No one was protesting now.

It was Iraria who cried first. And if she hadn't, Darian was sure he would have.


	4. The Capitol

**The Capitol**

They were given only a few minutes to stare at their parents before all twenty-four were ordered to stand up and leave in an orderly fashion. They walked out the way they came and were led back to the train. When they were all loaded, it took off again, further into the capitol.

Darian could still see his father when he closed his eyes but he knew there was nothing he could do about it at this moment. In fact, the longer he sat, the more he believed his future was completely out of his control and in the control of President Cross.

The train became way too stuffy and he knew it was because everyone was still struggling to breathe. Iraria was still crying, he could see that a majority of others were as well. Some looked scared and others were stone-faced, retreating into themselves.

Bristol stood and smiled at them all. It was so fake. How she could be so happy with twenty-four innocent people condemned to death? She still managed to smile... must have been plastic surgery. He knew how huge it was becoming in the Capitol.

"We've converted one of the nicest buildings in the Capitol to accommodate each of you tributes while you prepare for the games."

" _Games_?" One asked, Darian didn't look up to see who it was that spoke. "Don't you mean _execution_?"

Bristol lost her composure for a second but regained it quickly. "These are first and foremost Games. You are all contestants in a game, with only one winner."

There was a slight uproar in protest but it was quickly shushed when guns were pointed at everyone. Bristol continued. "As I said, each of you will be housed in the universal building. You will be under twenty-four hour surveillance, and I can _promise_ you. Even when you think you are alone, you are not."

The train stopped and once again they were hauled out by district. Twelve was the first and the rest followed. Darian and Iraria were taken to a spacious second floor and assigned rooms on opposite sides. They were not really rooms, more like glorified prison cells, but Darian had no room to say anything. If they were all meant to die in the 'games', then Darian figured retaliation wouldn't be met with their own ending but most likely some form of torture. The handcuffs were not removed. A guard was sat outside his door, even though he could not see him, he felt his presence.

The first night was a bad one. There was no sleep. He lay awake staring at the ceiling trying to force his brain to come up with a solution to the situation at hand. If only he could speak with his father. The rebellion had failed but it was a truly well thought up plan. He needed to know what went wrong. He had to know what had happened in a year of his dad being held prisoner here. He had to know how to get everyone home and safe. As he thought, his breath caught in his chest.

That whole task was huge. How could he actually pull that off? Not by himself. They had spent so little time together so far and something told him that was going to be normal for their stay. He became so lost in his thoughts that at the clank of his door being opened, he shot up.

The guard demanded him up and he was brought out to the table for breakfast. Iraria joined him. Her eyes were red and puffy and she looked like she could fall apart at any moment. He tried to make some sort of eye contact but she kept her head down. She was defeated already he could tell. She most likely had a reason to be. She was probably the youngest and smallest of the bunch. If the games came to pass the way President Cross wanted them to, she would be an easy elimination. Why was he thinking that way? He would not kill an innocent child. He wasn't even sure he could kill.

The real question was what would happen if they didn't kill? What would the Capitol do then?

Iraria didn't even touch her food but no one thought twice about it. They were both thrown back into their rooms.

It continued on for days like this. They were only let out to eat. Pigs for slaughter. He barely ate until it became too hard to resist. They would let him starve, but his will to do so wasn't as strong as he wished it could be. Luckily, Iraria didn't seem to have the will either. This struck him as a good thing. She hadn't given up on life just yet.

He couldn't tell time and he hardly ever had any idea what time of day it was or how many days had passed. He had no way of recording. Most of the time he slept or lied down until it was time to eat. His body began to adjust to a sort of eating schedule. He could predict when it was time to eat or not, whether it was a.m. or p.m.

A knock came at his door one morning and he did as he was instructed, stood where he could be seen, held his arms out, knowing something was different. The peacekeepers pulled him from his room and he was marched towards the elevators. Iraria was at his side in a moment and he was glad to see her. She had become his little sister type figure over the days. The elevator descended a floor and they were ushered on to the train.

Troy, the boy from District One, was pushed on the train wearing a complete head mask and arm cuffs. Darian was right. They wouldn't kill for retaliation. They would just put them on a stricter lockdown.

Was this the day of the games? Was this his last final moment as a civil human being? Were they all being carted off to some killing zone where they would be let loose? How would the games work? Would it be one on one? Would he actually have to fight someone he was once so fond of? His eyes traveled to Kelsa.

The train took them to a grand building and they were all moved inside. Darian wasn't expecting what was waiting for them. A long hallway was what they walked into and each district was given a room. District Two was the first room on the left and with the company of some peacekeepers, they were guided through the doors. Darian and Iraria were met with a dressing room and none other than Bristol herself with another capitol citizen.

"Welcome, welcome. Do sit." Bristol said and motioned to two barber chairs.

Iraria sat and Darian took the open chair.

"This is the premier night of the Games. Each of you will be giving an interview. Your job is to please the citizens of the Capitol. Should you choose to not comply… Well, you can ask your dear friend from District One about those consequences." She glanced to the door since the District One room was just across from theirs. "But it shouldn't be hard. You'll be asked a few questions and then taken back to your rooms. The games start tomorrow so you will need your rest." She explained.

The shock on Iraria's face was enough to set him off but he quickly remembered his promise to be rational. He didn't want to be muzzled like Troy. The games were tomorrow and no one had even told him. He had no time to prepare or think. He had been completely unaware of when it would all take place. Now that he knew, he wished he didn't. Tomorrow he would be asked to kill his oldest companions.

He focused again when the other Capitol citizen stepped up and ruffled his hair, "Thick, black locks. He will be a crowd favorite." She said, circling him like a tiger.

Darian glanced at her curiously and then looked to Iraria as the woman moved on and did the same to her. "Ringlet curls… pale face… just a babe. I have just the dress!"

Bristol observed from afar as the woman, Angelique, did their hair and makeup (much to Darian's distaste). She put them both in frilly frumpy outfits, clearly new Capitol fashion. By the end of it, Iraria looked like a porcelain doll and he looked like a wedding cake topper. 'Simple and sleek' is what she called his look. He looked like he was ready to be married. His hair was slicked back and he couldn't see the usual blemishes that appeared randomly on his face anymore. He knew it was show time.

"Perfect." Angelique said and twirled around. "You two look like you are ready to lead the Capitol."

Bristol gave her a look and cleared her throat. "Now that you are ready, it is off to the interviews!"

Handcuffs and they were off towards a different part of the building. From the roaring sound of a thousand voices talking at once, Darian knew they were just outside the auditorium. Two large metal doors slid open and he and Iraria were led to the backstage waiting area. Troy was surrounded by four peacekeepers and Darian could hear the girl from District One clear as day even though she was onstage. Troy was dressed in black exactly like Darian, though Troy's suit was fitted with a bowtie where his was a plain tie. They met eyes for a brief moment and Darian saw something that made his blood pump. He saw the will, no the _determination_ to kill.

Their eye contact was broken when Troy was pushed on stage and the girl from District One as brought back. He heard the audience gasp quite audibly and he hardly had any idea what that meant. Good or bad? Did Troy scare them or was it something else? He leaned over to get a feel and a view of what was ahead but he could only see the deep red curtains that kept them separated from the view of the audience.

Troy's interview was short and simple. He said very little, which actually seemed to work for the audience… he was labeled 'mysterious' in their eyes and that somehow made him appealing to them. When he was escorted back, Iraria was brought out. Within all the transferring, Darian moved a couple inches so he could have a somewhat decent view of the stage, mostly Iraria's head.

The man who was hosting interviews was in a sea green frock type thing and Darian was trying to figure out how that was considered stage appropriate.

"Iraria Rosewood." He said softly, "You look lovely tonight."

Darian could just barely see her shift some and play with her dress. "Thank you." She whispered, barely audibly. The mics were turned up and she could be heard for the rest of the time.

The man smiled and chuckled with the crowd. "She's adorable. Now I've heard you are _thirteen_ … is this true?"

Iraria nodded and the crowd 'awed'.

"Tell me about your home. You have a family?"

She nodded and hesitated before talking again, reluctantly. "I have… a dad. And sisters."

The man nodded. "No mother?"

Darian couldn't see it, but he could hear her tearing up by the way she answered. "She died when I was younger."

Her frail frame shook and the host patted her back for some sort of comfort that could never truly be given by a stranger. Not in the Capitol. Not given the circumstances.

They asked her about her school life and her sisters, and though Iraria tried, she couldn't stop the tears from flowing throughout the rest of her performance.

When her interview was finished, she was brought back and Darian escorted out. The boys seemed to be more heavily guarded than the girls.

He sat in the plush blue armchair and looked around. He could see figures of the audience but not their faces due to the lights. The host sat across from him, interacting with the audience as he took his place. The stage was massive and seemed almost too big for just two armchairs.

Across the stage, behind the red curtains were peacekeepers, more of them, guns pointed, ready to strike.

Fear was their game. In all reality, a bunch of kids couldn't do much. They had no weapons, no sense of the area, no way to defend themselves against Capitol technology, no knowledge of this land. Yet, they were treated like they had an army at their disposal ready to strike. If they struck enough fear into the minds of their enemy, they would ultimately win.

Darian sat up straighter.

"Darian Hale, everybody, District Two." The host called out to the crowd. There was applause and murmurs and chatting. None of it could Darian truly tell apart.

"So Darian, tell us all about what District Two is like nowadays. We, in the Capitol, have only heard of the wonders in the mountain."

Darian flashed back to the talk with Kelsa about District Two being renamed 'Strong Valley' because they had held up being the closest district to the Capitol for the Rebellion years. That was a joke though. District Two was overtaken in minutes it seemed.

"It's big." He said and the crowd laughed. "The facilities, I meant." He glanced behind him and got a strict look from Bristol. _Please the citizens_. Iraria had done perfectly just by telling how her mother had died. "Yes… productive too. Though I can't tell you much more than that. I know very little."

The host double clapped and smiled. He was obviously glad Darian was participating unlike Troy. Darian remembered when Troy would join his father for rebellion meetings. He wasn't the most animated guy, but there was always this deep fire that burned within him. He always looked like he was on the edge of discovery, or the edge of a breakdown.

Darian glanced back to the curtains where Troy stood, a muzzled dog once more. He had hit the edge apparently.

The interview continued. "Now I'm told your father is in the Capitol, isn't that right?"

He was taken aback by the question. Darian figured that the twelve district rebel leaders being held hostage in the Capitol was more of a discrete operation. After a moment of sheer silence, he nodded. "Yes. And my mother is back in District Two."

"Must be hard being separated from your family."

It was a blanket statement that caused a bit of a shiver to erupt through his spine. "Yeah… It's been lonely without dad around…. but we've been staying strong." He took a tone, hoping to show the people of the Capitol and Cross that he wasn't bending to their sick will.

"Did you know about the plans to overthrow the Capitol?" He asked. Again, Darian was not expecting a question about the events from a year ago.

"Uh…" His eyes shifted to Bristol who seemed about as lost as he did and back to the host. "I did…"

Lena Jones was the daughter of the District Three rebel leader. She was next to Bristol, ready to go on after him. She was in this pretty golden dress and he honestly had never seen her looking more like a girl than that moment. Tomorrow she would be executed. By whose hand, he didn't know. But out of everyone he knew, he didn't think her odds of survival were incredible. She wouldn't be the one, but she did, in that moment offer him a smile.

"I supported them too." Darian added. He wasn't sure how Lena Jones was giving him the confidence, but he realized that maybe his odds weren't the best either. And should he die tomorrow, his last day wouldn't be spent playing their game. "I was there supporting my father, Rebellion leader. He was a brilliant man. They all were brilliant. They wanted a life for us!" He was not shouting, but his voice was raised some. Maybe this was his outlet. This was his moment. He was a dead man, and he hoped his words would ring one last time before he walked the execution path. "Cross took it. It was taken from us. And now our lives are over!"

The peacekeepers walked out and the host looked a bit pale (well paler than the loads of make-up made him). Darian was pulled from the blue arm chair, cuffed, and dragged off stage. He didn't lower himself to be the guy screaming as they pulled him off so he just did his best to keep up with the pace.

"Peacekeepers my ass." He said and tried to move from their grip off stage. He was unsuccessful, but as he was yanked through a different door, he passed Troy with a look of pride.

"Keep them away from each other." Bristol said as Darian was gagged. Something was on the cloth because not a second later, he was out like a light.


	5. Prep and Show

**Prep and Show**

Darian woke up back in his glorified cell. To his surprise, he wasn't shackled, just the standard handcuffed. He did, however, feel like complete shit. His head spun as he tried to sit up and he thought he would lose the contents of his stomach the moment he settled back down. He stayed on his side for what felt like a few millennia until finally a knock sounded on the door.

He wasn't commanded to stand. He wasn't told to put his hands up or out in front of him. The door slid open and Bristol walked in, two peacekeepers behind her. "Happy Game Day." She said with a tone that proved she was mostly a sadist.

Darian was pulled up by a peacekeeper on Bristol's demand and he came face to face with her. "You and the other 'children of the rebellion' have been giving me quite the trouble since you arrived here. And with your little stunt yesterday, you proved to President Cross and myself just how badly this is needed. You know how you keep a bunch of adults in line, Darian Hale?" She asked.

Darian didn't answer. He didn't want to know the answer.

She leaned in just close enough so that they were sharing, unwillingly, more intimate space, but far enough away so that he couldn't head-butt her. As he calculated their distance, he wondered if someone else had already done that to her. His thoughts flashed to Troy.

"You threaten their children."

She whispered then abruptly stood. "Get him something to eat and escort him to the train… oh, and Darian, I would suggest you eat. It is very likely that this will be your last meal."

He was seething as she exited his cell, but he could barely make out the door frame as he was pulled to his feet. Whatever they forced on him the night before had served its purpose.

The kitchen was quiet… so quiet. Iraria was eating silently, though her eating was mostly picking. She glanced up once, took a look at him and then bowed her head again. Food was put in front of him and the smell of it was giving him anxiety. It smelled delicious. It was delicious probably. His last meal before death. He would die today.

He closed his eyes. He had never done this before. He knew it was stupid. 'Help me…' He thought. There wasn't a higher power. The only higher power in this god-forsaken world was the Capitol. 'Help me… help us.' He repeated and then opened his eyes to eat, eating until he was full and then some.

The train ride was tense. Everyone sat stiffly. They were either lost in their own anticipation or about to snap. Not a sound was made the entire ride. Darian took his time and allowed himself to watch his partner in all of this, Iraria. She was one of the lost. Her eyes seemed glazed over and she was in an entirely different place than that train. He thought about all the ways he could protect her. It was hard to come up with substantial ideas when he had no idea what was to come. Her dark hair was still curled some from the night before and the clothes they had her in consumed her in a blob shape. He wanted to reach her in her head and reassure her that it would be okay, but he barely believed that himself.

Moving down the line, he stopped on Kelsa. She had a stern, intense look on her face that made her features look less like Kelsa and more like a scorned statue. He had not gotten to see her interview and was curious as to how it went. What did she say? Did she play along? Was she her usual self or more like Troy? Her eyes met his and for a moment they looked to each other. She was his best friend… and here they were. Nothing was offered. Her expression stayed still.

Their gaze was broken by the slowing of the train.

As per usual, they were pulled off in pairs and escorted off the train to one of the largest buildings Darian had ever seen. It looked like a modernized gladiator arena. All the original gladiator arenas had been destroyed long before Panem was brought together, but Darian had heard stories from his parents. Some books survived and word had passed from them. His father drawn one for Darian on his tenth birthday.

Iraria was rushed off in the opposite direction and Darian was forced into a room down a large hallway. Angelique was there again and she seemed quite pleased to see him. "So, I have helped in the design of an outfit for you to wear. Should be good enough and all of you will be wearing the same thing, uniformity is a huge part of the games."

She turned around a mannequin that was wearing a tight long sleeved black shirt, some black pants of a similar taste. It was plain, but on the front and back their was a big, bold red '2'. "Aren't they just… perfect?"

Darian looked it over. It made sense that there would be a 'uniform' for a game but for an execution? He wondered why the Capitol wasn't taking the opportunity to torture them further. He reached out for a sleeve and touched it. The material was heavy… cold weather suited.

"Angelique? Are we going to be outside?"

The stylist smiled. "It's a surprise. All a surprise." She winked and then made him sit to fix his appearance. He was glad there was no heavy make-up involved this time. When she was finished she smiled. "Now get dressed. I have ten more of you to get through." With that, she scurried off.

Darian was used to changing in front of the peacekeepers. He was never allowed a moment alone with the cuffs off. He was unlocked and his clothes were laid out for him. He slipped them on easily and they seemed to form to his figure. He noticed first that they were actually pretty warm. They would definitely be outside for their execution.

The moment he laced his boots, he was handcuffed and escorted to a vast entry way. The thunder of people echoed through the entrance to the arena and Darian was anxiously looking everywhere to find some sort of clue as to what was going on. Would they kill each other in this public of a setting? Twelve chariots stood in a row and Darian was placed on the second one and handcuffed to it. There would be no running this late in the process.

Troy was in front of him, a bold red '1' on his black shirt. Next to him, the girl from District One was standing, a bold white '1' on her black shirt. Iraria was brought to his carriage and handcuffed the same (though with less vigor from the peacekeeper). She too had a bold white '2' on her uniform.

Darian smiled at her briefly and then watched as the other 'tributes' were lined up and handcuffed to their carriages. Behind him, Lena Jones had a large red '3' on her uniform while her counterpart had a white '3' on his.

Cross had gone through detailed lengths to make sure everyone knew who was guilty in this. Each rebellion leader's child had a red number, the innocent had a white. He clenched his fists. All of this to just drive the point home that rebellion was a failing option for the past, present and future. They stood just to the point of Darian being uncomfortable in that position (which he had no problem believing was intentional) before he chariots moved and pulled them out into the arena.

The crowd cheered loudly, or booed (he swore there was some of that too), as each chariot was paraded in a circle. Darian didn't know there were so many people in the Capitol. It seemed like every one of them had come to attend the event of the year.

They were announced by district and Darian strained to look to see where Cross was. Sure enough, he was on an elevated platform with a woman and a few others. He looked overjoyed and his glee translated to Darian's hate.

The chariots stopped in the middle of the arena and Darian was at his peak of anxiety.

Cross stood. "Citizens of Panem. I welcome you to the opening parade of the Games!"

Loud cheers erupted again like a wave among the crowd. Sick fucks.

"I, your President Jonah Cross, hereby sentence these twenty-four participants to death." The cheers only were growing at this point, Darian's stomach sank as he looked around at the mass of people waiting for his death.

"May this be a lesson… that we cannot survive as separate territories, but only as one united nation." His eyes scanned the tributes. "That united nation will be represented by the lone survivor… twelve districts united into one nation… the death of the rebellion once and for all!"

The audience went wild at the words of a murderer. Darian knew he should hold his head high and stare down the man who had seized his life and was now suffocating it, but he couldn't bring himself to. He was too shocked at this outcome.

They stood there for an extended moment before leaving the arena entirely and Darian was glad to get away. A large line of peacekeepers were waiting for the tributes as the chariots came to a halt in the same order in which they came. They were individually taken off the chariot and brought to one of two large aircrafts just outside. It was all a blur to Darian. He marched in line, sat where he was told, stayed silent when barked at. Time was nothing in those minutes. It ceased to exist.

He was flooded with the world again as he faded back into the present. He had barely noticed how the city of the Capitol turned into mountains and forest beneath the aircraft. As he turned his head in all directions, all he saw were forest and mountains. He wondered how long he had spaced out and then tried to remember the direction of the city. When they got to where they were going, he wanted to be ready.

They were deposited into a clearing which was obviously man made. He noticed the roots and some stumps of former trees still lingered. Other than that, there was nothing. The sun was just past midday but Darian suspected that it would get dark sooner rather than later. The group stood and waited for nearly another lifetime before a third aircraft landed and President Cross stepped out along with the woman he was seated with at the chariot parade. Each and every person seemed to be concentrated on their surroundings. How deep were they? Was there a way to escape the hold of the Capitol here?

Cross was dressed now in a completely white suit and his hair and beard had been dyed a vibrant white to match. Immediately off the craft he began barking orders at everyone.

"Place them according to the chart drawn up." Cross sounded annoyed, but it was mostly likely excitement rimmed with anticipation.

The woman who accompanied him was in full gold. She had a wide brimmed hat that slanted to the side and Darian couldn't figure out how it stayed on her head. Her hair was also bleached white and he wondered if it was a display of her innocence like the white numbers. "Make sure they are interchanged like we planned!" She shouted in a shrill voice.

Peacekeepers, one or two per tribute, started moving each person to a designated spot. Darian was moved to the edge of the white circle and put there so he was just inside it.

The other 'contestants' were moved the same and he found himself in the middle of Katherine Baker from District Eight (rebel leader's niece) and the girl from District Nine whom he didn't know. Troy was a few spaces down from him and Iraria was directly across the circle. Looking at her shaking there, he realized just how huge this circle was… not to mention the clearing that was surrounding it. They were allotted plenty of room for their game.

The question remained. What was the game?

A camera crew stood by the aircraft with some reporter who seemed to be filming a behind the scenes segment and with each moment that passed by, Darian was starting to see these 'games' come together. It didn't look good.

Each person's handcuffs were removed and Darian rubbed his wrists and they crews and spectators that were there loaded up into the aircrafts. One of the carriers flew directly over the circle and opened its bottom compartment. The people around the circle flinched as objects began to fall from it down to the grass of the clearing. Upon a closer look, Darian saw they were weapons of all sorts. Mostly swords, axes, knives, daggers… that was all he could make out from his distance.

Without a warning, everyone was gone and it was just the twenty-four of them. It was clear now, what was to be done. They were provided a space, they were given the materials, they were handed the sacrifice. It was now up to them to carry out each other's execution.

A loud voice, coming from God knows where began a countdown causing them all to jump. And if things couldn't get any worse, it began to drizzle.

"10...9...8...7...6…"


	6. 54321

**...5...4...3...2...1**

As the countdown hit one, Darian expected something to happen, anything, but each of them just stood there...frozen in their circumstances. He was sure at this point all of them knew what was supposed to happen next, but no one could bring themselves to do it. What would happen if they all just stood there?

Darian looked around the circle and saw a mixture of expressions. Could any of them actually do what was being asked of them? Darian wasn't sure he could. At this point, his father would die, he would die… who knew about his mother? Darian had nothing to fight for. His eyes landed on Iraria again and he felt his heart swell. He did make a promise to keep her safe. If he couldn't fight for himself, he would fight for her.

So far… there was no fighting.

As if the thought reminded the universe of what was supposed to be happening, the boy who was sentenced to death from District Seven, Marcus, stepped forward. Every eye turned to him and Darian noted that the number on his shirt was not red. Every head turned towards him. The rain picked up to the point where Darian was holding his hand up to shield his eyes.

Marcus' fists were clenched and it looked like he was shaking, though he was across the circle so Darian couldn't tell that well. He locked his gaze on Kelsa and began speaking. "This is all your fault. Not _everyone_ wanted things to change. Your parents are the ones who decided for everyone else and look where it got us. Look where it _fucking_ got us. You've ruined our lives. You've ruined everything."

He moved closer to the center of the circle and Darian had the feeling this was about to take a turn for the worst.

Branwen, the daughter of the District Four rebel leader, took a small step towards Marcus. "Calm down… we can get through this together… This is the Capitol's fault, Marcus."

In an instant, Marcus reached down to grab an axe and then threw it at Branwen. The head of the axe imbedded in her chest and Darian watched as his friend dropped to the forest floor. The area around her quickly turned a crimson red.

Somehow, time slowed down. He'd heard about this happening in instances such as these, but to actually feel time stopping, the world ceasing to move in the way he knew it was entirely different.

Marcus stayed standing near the weapons as chaos erupted.

There's always a moment when a person finds out their jerk reaction. Fight or flight. Darian's was flight. All of his being was telling him to turn and run, but one thing held him back. He couldn't leave Iraria. Instead of running into the woods, he took off sprinting across the circle. People crossed in and out of his path and he knocked into a few of them on his way to the girl that was just standing there.

When she saw him coming, something sparked in her and she started running towards him.

Darian jumped over Branwen's body, his stomach churning as his eyes met her darkened dead ones for a brief moment, and met Iraria towards the edge of where they were all standing. He grabbed her hand and ran to get out of the clearing. "Keep running." He said and squeezed her hand so tightly his hand was going numb. Darian glanced back and saw some people scatter, but was glad to see no one was following them.

Iraria slowed some and he pulled her along. "Don't stop, Iraria. We need to get as far away from that clearing as possible."

They kept moving. Even when one of them had to stop, Darian didn't trust them to sit around for too long. The reality of the situation was beginning to weigh heavily on him. People were going to die. He was most likely going to die. They had no food. There was no water outside the droplets falling from the sky at that moment. He had a thirteen year old to somehow protect and push through the game, and even if he somehow managed to keep them alive he had no idea what was to come after that. Luckily, the rain had let up and the clouds were slowly dispersing.

"Darian…" Iraria finally said. Her tone was that of someone who had lost everything. "I can't keep walking." He didn't have any idea how far they had walked, where they were or what time it was. All he knew is it was getting close to sunset and the both of them were tired.

He nodded. "Let's stop… uh..." He looked around and found the largest tree in the area. There was one not too far from them, and he wasn't sure it was that much bigger than the others, but for his weary resolve, it would do.

Iraria sat down the second she got within its shade and Darian joined her, spreading out on the ground. "Holy shit…" He said and exhaled. His mine flashed to Kelsa and he hoped that she was smart enough to have run… or that Marcus would spare her. A frown formed on his face and he knew he needed to distract himself. Food. Water. Shelter. The essentials. There were no obvious animals in sight, but it had been a little while since it stopped raining and he hoped that would draw them out.

He didn't have a weapon and his body wouldn't move. He could somehow make a weapon? All that sprinting past all those weapons and he didn't think to grab one? He shook his head.

Water was both everywhere and nowhere. Maybe it was pooled somewhere close by from the rain. He could find something to hold it… all of this was stupid. The truth was he was entirely unprepared to take care of them. Slowly he sat up and watched Iraria breathing. She was crying. It was silent, but he could tell from the way her body shuddered every so often. Her back was to him and he appreciated how she was at least trying to be strong in such a fucked up situation.

He had to get a weapon, and he had to get one soon enough. "Okay, we have to rest. We will stay here for a while… probably not a bad idea to stay here all night. We will keep guard for others… then tomorrow we are going to get some weapons… somehow... And food." He sounded more confident of his own thrown together plan than he was, but Iraria didn't say anything. She merely nodded.

She deserved to cry in peace. She had every right to be upset. He nodded back even though she couldn't see him and then moved to lean on the tree. He could, in the very least, watch out for the others. Hopefully he would reunite with Kelsa. He knew he could trust her at least. Plus, he knew she could at least defend herself… If only he could get ahold of a dagger.

Iraria fell asleep and he moved her closer to the tree so he could maybe protect her if no one else came around. Day became night and cold set in, another obstacle Darian had no means to overcome, and he huddled close to the girl. Sleep wasn't an option.

As the sunrise made their position bright to the point of discomfort, Darian decided it was time for action. They needed food and some sort of weapon if they were to make it another few days. Hardly, if any, rules and regulations were given. There were no instructions about how this thing was supposed to go. Darian had absolutely no idea how long this would last. If everyone scattered, it could be assumed that there wouldn't be quick elimination of everyone. He and Iraria had to make it to the end; he was determined to get her home.

"Alright…" He started and looked around. No living thing in sight. "We need to get a weapon... That way we get food…" She stood and gave him half a shrug before crossing her arms.

Darian gave her a once over. "Maybe we should make some sort of… weapon… just to protect us until we get the real thing." It took him a few moments to break off a branch. The broken end wasn't the sharpest thing he had ever encountered, but he was banking on nothing life-threatening crossing their path as they made their way towards the clearing.

It took them a bit of wandering and backtracking to find their way to the starting point, and once they did, the tree line that hid them was not as thick nor concealing as Darian would have liked. He crouched down low, a few rows of trees back and tried to make out exactly what was going on in the middle.

From what he could see, the remaining weapons (or most of the weapons more than likely) were stockpiled in one part. The metal glinted in the streams of sunlight that were dousing the clearing. It seemed much smaller the day before when all twenty-four of them were just standing there than it did now. His eyes glanced around the clearing searching for the lifeless body of Branwen, but saw that she had somehow been removed from the area. He cleared his throat subconsciously and looked to Iraria who was near. He needed to think about surviving, not about dying. Though in this 'game' the two thoughts seemed to be fusing into one.

"I have a feeling these weapons aren't just left there lying around. I'm guessing Marcus has kept them all…" There might have been a chance he split while everyone was running from him in terror, but Darian figured Marcus had no reason to do so. He was the main threat around here.

"We walk around closer… we just grab what we need and we get out of there before he returns."

Her eyes widened a touch and he shook his head. "You stay here in the trees. I'll get what we need."

The problem was outside of walking up to the pile and taking a weapon, he had no other idea of how to get what they needed.

Darian led them closer to their target, taking slow and cautious steps until he was standing equal to the tree line. He motioned for Iraria to stay put within the partial cover of shade and anonymity. She halted her steps as he took his first into the sunlight. As no one jumped from the woods to charge him immediately, he moved a foot forward and then again until he was speed walking to the pile of weapons.

Nothing stirred.

Releasing a slow breath, he bent down and started taking inventory of what they were left by the Capitol. There was not a lot of variety. It was mainly knives. He rubbed his hands over his face for a brief second as he thought about how the Capitol gave them no guns, or any other means of making it quick.

Why was he thinking about killing people?

There was a knife with a serrated edge, that was the one Darian believed would be most useful. If he were honest with himself, he would admit he had no idea how to hunt something nor make it dinner, but he had to try. His hand touched the knife's handle when a shriek echoed through the clearing.

Darian whipped around and saw Iraria out in open. She screamed again and pointed across from him where a guy was sprinting towards him in full force. So much for the no charging thought.

He grabbed the blade and forced his muscles into quick action. Whoever this guy was, or whatever he was after, Darian didn't want to stick around and find out. His legs carried him towards the tree line in succession, one after another, his arms trying to wave Iraria into moving.

"RUN!" He shouted, cursing just a moment later as he hit the ground so hard his head swam.

The guy was on top of him in a second, and it took that amount of time for Darian to realize he had dropped the knife. A meaty hand pressed to Darian's throat as he searched for the knife. If it was close, it could save his life. Before he could even catch a glimpse of the area, a fist connected with his jaw and sent his head spinning to the side. He hissed in pain.

When flight fails, fight kicks in.

His first instinct was to reach his hand up and press it to the guy's face and attempt to force him back, anything to get out of his hold. The two were similarly sized and while his attacker seemed briefly subdued, another punch was thrown his way, aimed more to the top of Darian's head this time. He writhed around until his opponent's weight worked against him and the boy was knocked off him. Darian rolled onto his stomach and started frantically searching for the knife again. It had to be nearby, or at the very least where he could see it.

A flash of light caught his attention and he lunged at almost the exact moment the other guy did. The two collided, hitting heads, and began another struggle for the weapon. He groaned and felt around until his hand touched metal. His clamped around the blade and swung it wildly, stupidly, at his adversary. Something hit, but Darian didn't watch, he just got to his feet to run again.

A hand wrapped around his ankle and once more Darian was on the ground. As he opened his eyes he came face to face with Branwen's pale dead one. The expression of shock still seemed to haunt her features and her body was half covered in dirt, leaves and sticks. Darian practically jumped out of his skin at the sight of her and reeled backwards onto his knees.

As timing would have it, the guy shot forward. Darian purely reacted by shoving his rival down in front of him. Skull hit skull and the guy didn't get up.

The nerves and the panic hit Darian like a freight train after he was sure the guy was down and he found his legs wouldn't move. What had he just done? His hands shook and he fumbled with the knife. His vision blurred and he sank back on his heels to keep from just falling right over. Outside of the brutal executions by the peacekeepers that he had witness, Darian had never truly been this close to death… if the guy was even dead.

Iraria came into his line of sight. "Come on, Darian, we need to go." She said, panic in her tone, and pulled his arm. He didn't budge at first, he just stared at the white eight on the guy's shirt in a haze.

It took him a few shaky breaths, but purpose reentered his life and he got to his feet.


	7. To Kill

**To Kill**

Time passed without Darian giving it much recognition. As he sat on the edge of a trickling stream, he tried to count the days, but they blurred all too well. Iraria sat next to him in a haze of her own. It had been more difficult keeping her alive than he had originally thought. He wouldn't have left her for dead, but between the two of them they had a dagger and little to no skill.

People had changed.

Just that morning they had stumbled, quite literally, upon a dead body. Who it was, Darian was unable to tell (due to the state of her decimated face) except for the white '5' on her clothing.

An innocent.

They were all innocent, but to the Capitol, those with white letters were the true innocents. Iraria Rosewood. And he was the guilty. A hand reached up the scratch his chest as he stood.

"Come on. We shouldn't stay in one place for long. Who knows-" A sharp pain twinged in his abdomen as he thought about what was going on out there in the woods. Someone was hunting and killing. He was running.

Iraria was by his side, her hand sliding into his. She had done that these days. Maybe it was a comfort thing, Darian never really thought twice about it. He also needed comfort, although he would never tell her that. He was sure she sensed it… somewhere inside him, his resolve was slipping.

The day became like a repeated pattern as they walked. Darian was torn on which direction. It seemed no matter which way they went, danger was afoot. How far did it go, really? Could they walk right out of there? Where would they go? They couldn't go home. Home wasn't a real concept at that point in time and yet it, somehow, kept them going. Even as they walked the same direction (though Darian wasn't sure), the trees all blended and bent together… he was never sure if they were walking in a straight line or in circles.

When his stomach grumbled so loudly they both could hear it, they pulled off to the cover of a grove of trees. Darian balanced against it and looked around. "See anything eatable?" He asked, taking a look himself. What he wouldn't give for a nice meal. His thoughts flickered back to his 'last' meal at the Capitol. What a dead body did to an appetite, running from danger restored it.

The area looked mostly empty. Something that had once been alive was in pieces a few paces from the grove. Other than that, it was bugs. Iraria made a face when he motioned to them (he was just that desperate). "Unless you know how to make a bird trap…"

As if on cue, a soft 'tweet' sounded from the top of the grove.

He whipped his head to the sky and tried to locate it. "Find it!" He shouted, just enough to scare a few animals from their hiding place. His eyes fell on Iraria's outstretched hand.

"It's there… It's a nest, Darian. We can't… _I_ couldn't…"

His mind moved beyond her as he jumped for the lowest branch of the tree and started climbing. Was he the best at climbing trees? Not exactly, but hunger did strange things to a person. It was not an option for Darian to be unsuccessful in getting some food.

The nest was a small victory, so much so that Darian's eyes stung with the beginnings of tears. There were no eggs, but there was a bird. Small in size with a bum wing. He would take the gift, food was food. Ignorant to his presence, it continued to make little noises. "Iraria… We need a fire." He got no answer from below.

The first issue was that he had no idea how to cook a bird…. Not one that was _fresh_. Nor did he know how to really kill one. Fire. Sticks. Something like that. He had a knife, small as it may be, that had to come in handy for something. The bird pecked Darian's finger, but it was obvious it couldn't fly away, though it thoroughly tried. Darian would be damned if he let this go.

Dropping down from the tree he showed Iraria his find. "This'll do just fine for now...We haven't had a bit of food for days."

Her eyes grew, head shaking. "Darian no… It's injured! We can't do this!"

She took him by surprise. He knew they both were hungry, he had food in his hand (more or less) and she was refusing. "Ira... we have to. We both need to eat."

Tears formed in her eyes. "Please no… We can't do it."

His stomach grumbled, his hand floating to it subconsciously. He had a decision to make, and before he thought twice, he snapped the bird's neck. Iraria's scream echoed through the trees, interrupting the moment of quiet that had accumulated in the forest. Darian cringed and closed the gap between them in a couple strides.

Putting a hand over her mouth, Darian shushed her. "Shhh. You have to be quiet."

Her tears wet his fingers, their path pushing through the dirt on her face. A glance in her eyes made his gut wrench. While he was hungry, she was truly upset by the dead bird. He put an arm around her and muffled her sobs in his shirt. This was the second living thing he had killed. Both had been necessity, but Darian never thought he would actually take a life.

He knew the reason Iraria was crying was more than just the bird, even if it took some internal reminding. People were dying. He wasn't quite able to admit it to himself just yet, but it was probable that neither of them would make it out alive. The odds were not in their favor.

By the time Darian figured out how to pluck the feathers and cut off the meat (little bits as there were), the sun was setting. Iraria had secluded herself by the grove, knees to chest, and hadn't said a word to him since he started. He hoped if he could just get her to eat a bite of food, she would feel better. Equally, he wished he had any sense at all with the plant life. There were always a few suspect berries or mushrooms about, but he had no idea what to do with them.

One wrong move and he could kill them both.

Leaving the berries where they were, Darian did his best to start a fire. If he were honest with himself, he should have started the fire earlier. It didn't matter now. He struggled away with every mythological 'trick' he had ever come across until the twigs and leaves lit. He was no outdoorsman, but that was a proud moment.

A sigh of relief left him with the weight the burden carried, and he began cooking the meat at the end of a stick. He would eat. She could eat. Darian was keeping the promise he had silently made to keep Iraria safe. Maybe there was a 'higher being' after all that was watching over them both. _Perhaps_ , Darian thought, _I should make a sacrifice_.

He extended a small piece to her as she sat down beside him, but she shook her head. The expression that crossed his features was less than pleasant, but he wouldn't argue, he didn't have it in him in the face of food. He simply wrapped the meat in some leaf and let it be at her side...

It was the rustling of trees that caused Darian to open his eyes. He hadn't even noticed he had fallen asleep. The fire was merely a dying ember in the ash at that point causing his vision to adjust little by little. When it did, he noticed they were face to face with a group of people.

Finding the dagger in a second, he jumped to his feet, dizzied from the quick switch in position. He should have been more prepared. It could be anyone, his thoughts shifted to Marcus, he had to strike first… or was it never strike first?

The figure in front gave a soft laugh. "Calm down, Darian… We had wondered what had happened to you."

Their faces were hardly recognizable in the dark, but Darian was familiar with the voice that spoke. A rebel leader's child. One of the guilty in the games, and an old friend of his.

He stepped in front of Iraria's sleeping body and straightened up his posture. Friend or not, things were different now. "Nils…" He called out.

"You should be more careful, Darian. We could have been _them_." He sat close to the once-was fire and Darian could hear the others with him follow. Soon, it was only Darian standing.

Eyes fully adjusted, he could see the lot of them. Five in total. All of them allies… at some point. He quickly scanned the group for Kelsa, but found she was not among them. Sitting across from Nils, Darian watched his old friend sift around the pit of ash with a stick.

"Them?"

He could see the corner of Nils' mouth turn upwards. "Yeah, them. A little wolf pack of _innocents_ … gunning for the rest of us. Surprised you haven't had a run in with them yet.. You were all too easy for us to find."

"You've been looking for me?" The thought was absurd. Didn't they have better things to do? Darian hadn't even considered looking for others. Even the prospect of finding Kelsa had slipped his mind until the group found them.

"Only recently." Another chimed in, Lena. Yet another relative of a rebel leader. Darian had been standing next to her in the circle at the start of the games. He was actually glad she was alive.

"We've been making a pack of our own. We won't be hunted like fucking easy prey." Nils was always a natural leader. He was a big guy, strong from working the the fields of District Eleven. Even when they would meet up, he always took command. In a weird way, Darian felt safer with Nils around. Hell, he liked having a group of allies.

"Thought you might be dead, though, since no one has seen your ass all week." He sat back. "And here you are lounging by a fire."

Darian's response was uncomfortable. "We've just been... Keeping to ourselves."

"It's us or them." Roy, a scrawny kid from District Nine, chimed in. "Kill or be killed."

"We've decided to _kill_."

His thoughts jumped back to the fight for the dagger that was gripped tightly in his hand currently. Back to Branwen's body in the clearing, the girl from District Five the happened across earlier. They had been killed, Darian had taken one of their lives.

It was a twisted way of thinking, but they were in a twisted situation. He was glad to see people banding together, fighting against the need to survive individually. They would be much better off as a group. Maybe President Cross wouldn't get away with it. He hadn't been expecting this when he designed this punishment.

"Have you…" His hesitation was picked up by Nils.

"We are prepared to." Something in Nils' eyes answered beyond the statement. He and Darian were connected through more than their rebel relations.

Darian debated back and forth with asking about the others. Where was Kelsa? Where was Troy? Something told him not to ask. Part of it was that he didn't want to know, the other was something else, a sense of distrust. Who had Nils killed?

The group settled into silence. No matter what the plan was from there, Darian and Iraria would be joining.

The air grew crisp as the night moved along. Darian found it hard to go back to sleep. The ability to sleep through exhaustion had slipped away with the coming of their visitors. They all seemed to be in various states of consciousness and Darian took the opportunity to search for weapons. If he had the only one, they would all be fucked. It was unknown whether Nils and the group was aware of the number of weapons in the clearing. But his lowly dagger wouldn't be enough.

Darian had to kill someone to get even this one.

He sat up to get a better view. Nils clearly had something, but he couldn't tell what it was. The others were harder to make out. As he squinted in the dark, he noticed more people descending in on them from the trees. Before Darian could react, a thin blade worked its way to his throat from an unknown assailant behind him. The edge easily sliced the first few layers of skin, and pricks of blood dripped from the crease.

They were surrounded.

Iraria screamed as she was ripped from her sleep and pulled up to her feet by another girl. An innocent.

Marcus stepped into view, his expression was one of insanity. To him, Darian was sure, this was like striking gold from the old myths. It was all true. A group had formed around Marcus, and they were out for blood.

A cold laugh pierced the silence.

"Gotcha."


	8. The End of Innocence

**The End of Innocence**

Nils didn't wait a second. While Marcus was a guy who could (and would) monologue, Nils was one to jump at opportunity. He flat out punched his captor, some poor guy who underestimated his opponent, and went after Marcus head on.

Darian would have liked to watch it play out, but he had to rescue Iraria. A quick side glance showed her being restrained by the girl. He willed her to fight back, and that became more urgent as knife was pulled on her.

Darian's heart rate sky rocketed. If she died now… at an ambush like this….

He had to fight. Darian gripped his captor's wrist and attempted to push the blade from his throat. That was potentially risky, but his choices were limited. The two struggled like that for a moment, Darian impressed at his ability to keep the edge from digging further into his skin. It was a battle of wills. He summoned something deeper in himself to truly think of a way out of this. Iraria would die right here, right now, if he didn't get free.

He would die.

Without a second thought, he threw his weight back into the guy and the two sprawled out on the forest floor. Darian's chin stung, but his thoughts faded from whatever injury the move might have given him as he jumped to his feet and searched around for the dagger. Without it being on his person, he felt exposed.

A blow connected to his side, Darian stumbled. He was stupid not to keep an eye on the guy once he got out from under his blade. The two faced each other when he found his footing and everything inside was telling him to take off and run. For a split second, he thought he might do it. His flight response always seemed to run in high gear.

This time, Darian had a reason to stay here.

He dodged a sloppy stab attempt by jumping to the side. The glint of his dagger caught his eye from behind the attacker, his stomach lept. There is was, his chance. Whether it was his strong need to survive or (he didn't yet want to admit) the desire to see his opponent fall, he did something crazy. Darian charged the blade and his opponent, knocking him to the forest floor. His momentum carried him through his adversary and, more importantly, to his dagger.

He scooped it up, fumbling with it as his hands shook violently from adrenaline, and searched for Iraria. Luckily, his skirmish hadn't moved him too far away from her. Iraria struggled against the hold of her captor, but she was alive. A new surge of energy rushed through him. Dagger in hand, he ran towards the girls.

Nearing them, he was pure instinct and reaction. One hit with his dagger and the girl fell. He squeezed Iraria's hand in his and took off running, pulling her with him, refusing to look back.

It felt like déjà vu as he sprinted through the trees, Iraria close at his side. This time, however, they wouldn't stop until there was not a single chance of being found.

As fate would have it, her foot caught a root causing her to tumble to the ground. "Darian!" She cried.

He came to a halt and rushed back to her side. "Come on… get up!" He hoisted her to her feet, his voice trembling with panic. She favored one of her feet and began limping along.

"I can't." Iraria was breathless as she spoke. "We have to stop…"

He protested with a growl and tucked the dagger into his belt. Squatting in front of her he silently prayed he would be able to pull this off. She weighed as much as a feather, but nothing was easy out there. The whole forest seemed out to get them. "Get on, we can't stay here."

Iraria climbed on his back and Darian moved on, albeit slower. He would not fail now. They had made it this far in the games, he was too determined to see it through. There was only a hint of President Cross's words in the back of his mine. _Only one will walk out of there alive_.

Darian would find a way to save them both. Save them all if he had to.

He jogged, walked, slogged on until his body physically could do so no longer. Collapsing on the forest floor, he could not move a single muscle. Iraria slid off to the side and wrapped her arms around him. "Are we safe? Are we safe?"

She whispered in his ear, Darian offered but a slight nod before he couldn't be conscious a second more.

Darian awoke to pounding rain and a stiff body. He sputtered after sucking in a breath of water and sat up quicker than his muscles were ready for. A bolt of pain ripped through his body and he groaned as he fell back to a prone position.

The movement caused a stir in Iraria who hadn't seemed to have moved from the night before. She sat up, soaked to the bone, and looked around. Her shock mimicked his and the two found themselves lost in their newfound, yet still old, surroundings. For the moment, Darian was certain they were alone. Having no idea where they were, death never seemed more certain even though there was no present threat.

His second attempt to stand was far more successful than the first. He staggered with his first steps (each being incredibly painful), but ultimately stood tall. "I feel like I've been hit with a truck."

Iraria shivered and nodded. "I think my ankle is swollen."

She clearly didn't have to think much about it, her right ankle was at least two times bigger than her left.

"Fuuuuck." Darian said lowly and walked, more like hobbled, over to her. The higher being was not looking out for them today. Upon further examination of her ankle, Darian determined that he was not a fucking doctor and had no idea what to do.

"We need to get you to somewhere dry."

Not a single patch of God's green earth was dry.

He settled on moving her beneath the cover of twin trees. Their leaves lent her at least a slight bit of shelter from the downpour. Sitting down next to her, he did his best to keep them both warm.

An impossible task in the relentless rain.

"M-m-maybe I c-can make a fire?" He said, trying to think of literally fucking anything to spark some sort of warmth… or hope… or bullshit like that in them.

Iraria laughed...a shuddering, shivering 'we're dead' laugh, but a laugh indeed.

"My d-dad used to love the r-rain." Darian started, not knowing where the hell that even came from.

Iraria rocked back and forth, nodding to indicate she was listening.

"He would dance!" Darian said in a slight shout that was almost completely drowned out from the noise of the downpour. "Rebel leader… dancing in the rain." Talking seemed to help calm the shivers and he found himself smiling at the memory.

Iraria met his eyes, "You're lying!" Her smile was genuine.

He shook his head vigorously. "Nah… no reason to lie about such a thing…" A pang in his chest caused his smile to drop. The sight of his dad held prisoner to Cross was more than enough to bring back the hatred. Hatred burned deeply.

Hatred for the capitol, hatred for the president, hatred for everything. If a will to survive couldn't get them through this, his pure hatred of the circumstances would. That much he knew.

"I'm sorry, Iraria… I'll get us out of this. I promise." Darian had been the reason she was here... indirectly, of course, but he was starting to accept that part of the blame. He was as much a part of the rebellion as his father had been. He didn't go out in the field, but he dared to dream of a bigger, better Panem.

She was being sacrificed for that.

She reached a shaking, freezing hand out and held his. "I know Darian."

It was as good of an 'I forgive you' as he could have expected.

The rain let up just enough for small rays of sunshine to break through the grey clouds, but the clouds lingered like an omen. The cold gear they were given was fast drying and for that one fact, Darian was eternally grateful. There was nothing to eat. Everything was wet, making fire impossible since Darian wasn't a fucking magician. But they were mostly dry.

He did his best to attempt to find something to eat in the few hours they had before nightfall, but he turned up with nothing.

"Tomorrow will be better. We will wrap up that ankle, change locations, find some food."

It was a strange sensation, prickling in his limbs, that caused Darian to open his eyes. With that came two things: snow and cold.

He was covered in a layer of big wet flakes of snow and he was fucking freezing. He and Iraria were huddled close together and for that he was thankful (although she gave off less heat than an icicle). The fog of sleep worked slowly, clouding his mind as he tried to work through what to do next. The coming of snow was ultimately not a good thing. They both needed to get up and move around.

He had heard stories of men in days of old burrowing within the snow to keep warm, but he doubted there was enough for them to do that. In the very least, he needed to find a way to make a fire.

"Ira… come on." He mumbled and shook her sleeping frame.

When he touched her, he knew.

Her body was rigid. She was ice cold. There was no give.

The reality sliced through the grogginess and he was fully back in the present. His hand stayed on her shoulder, unmoving, he couldn't bring himself to let go. A strange fascination with the snow on his body arose as his mind tried everything to keep from looking at her.

"No…" He whispered, over and over. "No...no...no... _please no_ …"

No to what? Hadn't he been preparing for this? He essentially _knew_ this would happen. He could have been more prepared.

 _How had he let this happen?_

Whatever made him look struck him into a state of action. Her final position was that of such peace, it was nearly impossible to tell where she was, what she had endured over the past week. Darian moved around to see her face, her innocent face. Even at the end she was elegant. Nothing like the others. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, skin as pale as the snow that covered her.

His mind went blank.

Iraria Rosewood was dead.


	9. One by One by One

**One By One By One**

The snow crunched beneath his feet. It had iced over through the cool of the early morning. Darian hadn't noticed the cold much, but the sound of his feet breaking the iced connections seemed to match the beating of his heart. Quick, consistent.

He had to get further away from the twin trees.

From Iraria.

Stomach clenching, he paused, hand reaching out for the nearest solid object so he could retch. Absolutely nothing came of it, as his stomach was empty.

Days he had spent trying to keep her alive. Before all of this, he had planned to somehow get them all out of it.

Some savior he turned out to be.

In spite of the bitter cold, the sun hit its peak in the sky and a small bit of the snow began to shelf off. Darian was climbing higher, away from whatever it was that was below him, behind him. The slick sides of the hill were beginning to give way beneath his feet, and while he struggled to keep himself above the slush that had formed since noon, his failure was inevitable.

He was absolutely powerless to stop the fall.

Log rolling down the side of a hill, it took more than one tree to stop his descent. And once his momentum ceased, he found himself unwilling to get up.

Before, he spoke of hatred fueling his way through the 'games'. He had no hatred left. He had nothing. How Marcus, one pissed off fuck, had managed to get this far, successfully, was a mystery to him. He formed a whole small pack of killers and Darian could barely muster the strength to open his eyes.

Maybe he could lie there and slowly mold into the dirt, become part of the earth and just… disappear.

A soft wheezing sound caught his attention.

While his mind was shot, his body somehow fought to win, and he was at attention. Sitting up, he looked around the muddy, slushy ground searching for the source. His knees sunk and squelched as he crawled around the area. Part of him was sure he was just imagining things until he came across a body lying face down in the mud.

When Darian drew closer, it was quite obvious that it was Nils. While nature had done a number on the surroundings, his dark skin, reserved eyes stood out beneath the mud and rubbish that had covered his prone body. He scrambled to his old comrade's side. Dark swipes of dried, cracked blood covered his jaw and neck, and Darian noticed the odd angle at which his friend's lower half was at.

"Kill me…" Nils wheezed, a weak cough following.

Darian's head shook before he could answer. His body was rejecting the killing, the death, his mind was clinging to the last bit of hope that lingered. "Nils…"

" _Kill me_ …" He said again, urgency lacing his tone. "Before he comes back… It has to be you…"

The two met eyes and Darian was overcome with understanding. Nils couldn't move and he was close to death, who knew what the day would bring for him?

"I'd rather it be you… than _him_ …"

He drew the dagger. What was fast? What was painless? Nils nodded ever so slightly and closed his eyes, relief swept his features.

"...Right in the temple…" He instructed.

The dagger felt heavy in his hands. It was one thing to use it in self defense, but this was something entirely different.

A wheeze.

He angled himself so he was kneeling near Nils' head. Darian was hesitant enough to do this, though he knew it was right, he wasn't sure he'd be able to do it twice. Raising the dagger above Nils' head, he sucked in a breath and drove the dagger home.

A stillness smoothed over the surrounding area like a fog, and Nils' body went with it. Darian's eyes blurred with tears, his body slumped back, his mind in total defeat. Whatever fight was left in him shrunk to the depths and burrowed. And from there, everything was numb.

Her blue eyes came into view, but how he could tell they were blue was purely memory as it was pitch black around him.

"Holy shit, Darian…" She spoke and her voice warmed him.

She bent down beside him as a male voice said something inaudible. Her head moved in response, and Darian only just registered it when he was being sat up. How he had ended up on his back, he couldn't remember.

A bottle of sorts was held to his lips and cold, delicious water ignited his innards. A groan made its way between sips and soon enough he was feeling somewhat revitalized. That was when his perspective cleared.

He was face to face with Kelsa. As an added bonus, behind her was Troy.

While neither of them looked particularly well-off, they were by far in the best shape of anyone he had encountered thus far. Without a moment more wasted, Darian threw his arms around Kelsa and pulled her harshly against him. "Fuck me… you are alive."

Her arms mimicked his and she planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Of course… I just didn't know if you were or not."

Troy made an annoyed noise and shook his head. "I always knew there was something going on between you two."

Kelsa lifted a single _delicate_ finger in his direction and pulled away from Darian. "You do look like shit."

Darian shook his head. "I'm sure. I feel like it."

Troy was mostly business, but he had a hint of rebellion (as he always did) hidden in his tone. "Are you injured?"

"No." Darian swiped the area with a gaze to locate Nils. "Just some scrapes."

Troy followed his eyes and came upon Nils' figure. "No shit… Was this you?" He walked up to their dead friend and bent beside him. "You really fucked him up, Darian…."

Darian flinched, steadied by Kelsa taking his hand. "It wasn't me…" He said, not sure how much to divulge. He trusted them both, or Kelsa at least, but he didn't want to be Nils' murderer. That's what he was. He packed the feelings that bubbled in his core down lower, burying them once again beneath a semblance of composure. "It was-"

"-Marcus." Kelsa said and bowed her head. Darian hadn't even thought about how Kelsa actually knew Marcus. Chances are she knew his family, too.

"He's made his rounds." Troy commented and pulled the dagger from Nils' temple. He tossed it at Darian's feet. "Let's get moving."

Kelsa assisted Darian to his feet, though with their appearance, his strength and will was returning to him. Each moment with them lifted his spirits just a touch from the depths in which it had descended. He pocketed the dagger and followed Troy's lead.

The walk was a bit of a struggle as the melting snow had iced over with the dropping night temperatures, but they managed together better than Darian had when he had to navigate on his own. Troy and Kelsa traveled quickly and quietly and Darian found the tension to be heavy. Whatever the two of them had been through, it weighed on them. He briefly wondered if that was how he carried himself…. Should that be how he carried himself given the circumstances.

"Here." Kelsa said, stopping short. She nodded to the side and made way to thicker area of the trees. Troy followed suit like they had done this a hundred times, and perhaps, to them, if felt like it had been that many.

The two sat and Darian pulled up the rear only to do the same. Kelsa started sorting through a few supplies she had on her person while Troy lounged against the tree, scrutinizing the small canopy above. While Darian had questions buzzing through his head, he dared not break the silence. A hushed few minutes passed between them before Troy spoke.

"No one's up there…"

"Who's left to be up there?" retorted Kelsa.

A puzzled look crossed Darian's face. "What do you mean who's left?" His ignorance of what they knew was apparent.

Kelsa cleared her throat, but Troy beat her to it. "People are dead, Darian. Most of them we figure."

"We've been trying to keep track. Nils was on our radar but…" She faded out when her eyes met Darian's.

Troy put his hands behind his head. "And considering the girl isn't with you… I bet it's just us and them." Grief panged in Darian's abdomen, struggling to rise to the surface. Iraria. Darian kept a lid on it. "Not sure who of Marcus' horde is still around, but there aren't many stragglers we are guessing."

"Not after that freeze last night."

The thoughts pieced together in Darian's head one by one. They had been out there at least a week. They had been tossed into the game with no way of knowing how to truly survive. Food was scarce, the weather was inconsistent, and there was a group of people hunting them. The sheer amount of dead bodies he had seen since the games began…

He exhaled. "A couple days ago, I met up with Nils and Roy and some others. We were ambushed by Marcus and his group."

Troy and Kelsa exchanged a look.

Kelsa grabbed his hand and held it closer to her. "They are dead... We saw them before we found you."

"We aren't sure who was exactly who, but Roy was there… Lena…" He looked up as if to pay a quick tribute to the fallen. "Nils was near you…"

He was thankful for the numbness and the cold at that point. He wasn't surprised, but the true nature of the games, no, the true nature of humankind had shown its face. He had lost friends. He taken lives himself.

Kelsa gave his hand a squeeze. "We're here. We've made it this far."

A chilling breeze blew through the thicket, causing the three to lean in a bit closer.

"You know what this means…" Troy's voice was the antithesis to Darian's feelings. He was nearly elated.

"What?" Darian answered, wondering just how much of a toll the games had taken on Troy.

"It means we've won. Marcus can't take on all three of us. Now that we are united…" Troy smiled. " _We've won the games_."

Both Kelsa and Darian seemed to be a bit confused about his statement. He understood taking out Marcus and whoever was left in his group (again, why did he think this way?), but he didn't know what the capitol would do from there.

Troy leaned in so close, their heads were nearly touching. "We kill Marcus and we get out of here, the three of us."

"Where would we even go?" She was shivering, and it crossed Darian's mind that the two of them survived the freeze the night before… Shaking out of it, he scooted closer to her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"We'd just take off in the woods. Pick a direction and start walking." The idea sounded even better as he said it. "We could do it…. Not play this game anymore…" He wondered why they didn't just do that in that moment. Part of it was the cold, the other was something deep seeded… a need to see Marcus pay for what he had done.

Troy nodded along, moving to the other side of Kelsa, sandwiching her in the warmth. "Exactly…

Tomorrow, we go hunting."

They all agreed the clearing was the best place. Not only would it provide them with weapons, given Marcus didn't get rid of them all, but adequate space to finish the task as well. The morning was crisp, but Darian didn't care. There was something gratifying about being the hunter and no longer the hunted. For brief moments of time, he worried for his sanity, but the tracking of Marcus meant the end.

It was time to end the cruel games of the Capitol.

It was finally time to fight back.

Troy and Kelsa seemed to know the way towards the clearing much better than Darian. His body hummed as they made their way down from where they had climbed just the night before, the nerves setting in. A light fog clung to the valley and Troy commented that this would be helpful in keeping them concealed. Darian noted that the fog worked both ways and tried to stay more alert as they waded their way through it.

The clearing, where it all began, came up on them much faster than expected and Darian began to believe that this whole time, while he thought they were running away in one direction, he and Iraria had just been running in circles.

They stopped yards away from the treeline and readied themselves. Marcus couldn't take all three of them at once, but being unprepared could easily be their downfall. Darian pulled out his dagger and fingered it in his palm. Thinking about the pure advantage they had filled him with confidence.

"We go slowly, cautiously." Troy whispered, but Darian could tell the two of them were on the same vein. This was it, _the_ moment.

Darian put Kelsa between them, having her follow behind Troy. He wanted to make sure Marcus went for either him or Troy first. Kelsa was all he had left and he would be damned if he let anything happen to her. He'd lay down his life for her safety.

There was a crack.

A snap.

A large branch swung around a nearby tree. Darian pulled Kelsa back instinctively, ducking with her to shield them both from whatever it was. For a moment, he thought it might have been Marcus expecting them. Adrenaline rushed through his body and he backed away in haste with Kelsa.

"Troy!" He called out to warn him of a possible Marcus appearance.

When the commotion settled, Darian looked up to see Troy suspended in the air by a giant wooden stake that had impaled his head.


	10. Victor

**Victor**

Troy's body didn't last long in the tree. There was a second crack and his limp figure fell to the forest floor; Darian's expression matched Kelsa's as the two of them watched. The air seemed heavier, weighed down with death, or maybe it was just the silence that closed in around them.

Neither spoke a word for a few moments.

"We need to leave." He said, feeling as if that's all he had been saying since the games began. No place was safe. Even when he hid, he was found. When he hunted, he was defeated. There was no way to win the games.

Kelsa nodded in agreement, but didn't move. He knew why. The sight of their fallen friend was a reminder that their plan of action… _winning the games_...was not as simple as they had believed it to be.

Their hope died with Troy.

Darian grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her away from his body. "Kelsa… come on. We can't stay here, Marcus could be anywhere."

As he mentioned Marcus, the shock of Troy's death seemed to peel back and allow Darian a moment of clarity. Where was Marcus? He and Kelsa had stood there, open targets for the picking, yet nothing had happened. Darian took a step closer to the tree and noticed it was actually a trap that had claimed Troy's life, not a person. Someone, and he suspected who, had had the time to make a trap and Troy had walked right into it.

The branch that had struck Troy through his head was still a bloodied mess as Darian inspected it. "It's genius…" He muttered.

Kelsa joined him a second later. "He died by accident?" Her tone indicated something like relief.

"Better than being killed off by Marcus, I suppose." He cleared his throat and bent down beside Troy's body, taking extra precaution to not touch his body, and grabbed the few weapons that were visible.

Kelsa bent down as well and ran her hand through Troy's hair.

Darian gave her a moment, backing away to the tree. Leaning against it, he found a place for the newfound weapons and waited. As he looked down, noticed that he was a mere nudge of his foot away from a pile of shit. Making a face, he swiftly moved away from that certain area.

"Should we bury him?" Kelsa asked.

He shrugged. "I really don't think we have time now, but after we get Marcus," He paused, thinking about that possibility without Troy in the mix, "We will come back for him."

The reality of Troy not being around anymore hadn't hit him just yet. He knew Troy was dead, he was out of the equation, but that's all he could process. He had lost a strong ally and their chances of survival lessened. His eyes moved to Kelsa. She was what he had left.

So far, he had done a shit job of protecting anyone, but Kelsa was different.

Darian and Kelsa had been friends for five years. She was his best friend, the kind that lived far away, but always seemed above the rest. He would die for her and, more importantly, he would kill for her. He would very well have to. If it came down to it, no, _when_ it came down to it, Darian would do whatever he could to keep Kelsa alive. He would do for her what he couldn't for the rest.

"DARIAN!"

Kelsa shoved him out of nowhere and Darian went sprawling to the forest floor. His reflexes were too slow to keep his face from hitting the dirt. The small hit to his head kept him down a spare second and it took him that long to re-center his vision.

Kelsa was on her knees, her body shaking, and one arm limp to its side. Her position was awkward and he was about to ask what happened when he noticed the villainous figure of Marcus standing some feet back behind Kelsa. She swayed a touch and Darian rushed to catch her before she fell forward. As she slumped against his chest, Darian noticed the ax protruding from her right shoulder blade.

A wave of dread overcame him and he was instantly consumed by it. His arms snaked around her body and he pulled her close against him. "Kelsa…"

She moved her head to the side and pressed her face into his chest. "He was there…" Her voice was faint as she spoke. "I couldn't let you die…"

A roar erupted from Marcus' throat. " _She wasn't supposed to die_ ," He spat.

Darian glanced at Marcus, confusion passing over his features, but he said nothing. Marcus looked absolutely unhinged. His face was sunken, eyes had dark circles under them, skin pale. It seemed like he hadn't eaten or slept in days. Darian wondered briefly if this was how he had looked that night by the fire, or if this was a more recent state.

Kelsa's body was getting colder and Darian's hands were soaked in her blood as it fell from the wound in her shoulder, but he didn't let go. He couldn't. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't move his body a centimeter. Darian met her eyes, a smile crossed her face, but no words were said. What could he say? There were no words for that moment.

"The ax was going for you, it was supposed to hit _you_." Marcus continued, his tone darkening as he spoke. "This whole time, I've been looking for you, Darian Hale. It was your father who started this… I'll end it."

Darian ran a hand down Kelsa's face and kissed her sweaty forehead. While he heard Marcus, he wouldn't take his eyes off Kelsa. While he knew the guilt would floor him later, for now he wanted to make sure it was he she saw in her final moments and not the forest, nor Troy, nor Marcus. Her hand squeezed his side weakly, and a smile crossed her face.

"I've been ending it this whole time. I collected the innocent. I've been going after the guilty. THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED!" Marcus was shouting, and Darian had a feeling it wasn't exactly at him anymore.

Kelsa's breathing was labored, and something about the way her eyes looked, Darian knew she wouldn't be with him much longer. Surprisingly, she spoke. "Darian… you have to win… you have to beat him."

"I'M HERE! I DID IT!" Marcus screamed.

He had to support more of her weight in his arms, and the burn of his stiff muscles started to return to him, but his attention was on her. She seemed as if she had more to say, but he never heard it. Her body relaxed, grip loosened from his shirt, and her head rolled to the side.

Darian watched Kelsa slip away.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, squeezing her body hard against his.

Marcus was silent now.

Everything was silent.

A strange heat radiated throughout Darian's veins, its origins unknown. He clenched his fists tight, balling in her bloodied shirt with them and took a few deep breaths. _Beat him_ she had said. His threshold for loss had been crossed, and yet somehow the fire within only seemed to grow within him. He placed Kelsa on the ground gently, keeping her nicely on her side in a way that seemed so natural for her.

His blood pumped harder, his breathing following suit. Hate like fire was all-consuming and what he thought he had lost, he retrieved from the very depths of him where it had been buried.

Darian snapped.

He yanked the ax from Kelsa's body and stood up, his muscles contracting at his nerve's command. He felt strong. He felt fearless. In a way, he felt nothing but the fire that was now untamed within him.

"You wanted me. Here I am."

There would be no more running. No more hiding. This would end here. The games would end with him, or Marcus. Darian would be damned if he didn't bring Marcus with him upon his descent.

Marcus' expression was that of a hunter. He had always been the hunter. Darian knew he had control and the games had more than proven his intelligence. As his adversary sized up the situation, Darian was pleased to find he wasn't running either. Marcus would pay in any way Darian could hand out punishment.

Before another breath passed between his lips, Darian was in a full sprint towards Marcus, ax in hand. The more primitive parts of him were in control and out for blood. At the last second, Marcus stepped out of the way and Darian went running still, stopping a near inch from the tree behind him. Darian turned and swung the ax wildly, weapons clashed and Darian lost his balance causing him to stumble off to the side.

"There's no one left to protect you!" Marcus shouted. "No one left for you to hide behind…"

Darian caught his balance and looked to the face of his enemy. Marcus was right. There was no one left, and absolutely nothing left to lose.

Marcus struck first this time, and the edge of his blade nicked Darian on the shoulder as he tried to dodge. He struck another tree as a second swipe of the blade took him further to the side and a quick decision was made that he had to get out of the trees. Not only were they clearly to Marcus' advantage, Darian had no idea where the other traps were if there were others.

He pushed back against his attacker and drew the fight more to the tree line with the intention of getting the two of them to the clearing. The two were equals, somehow, and Darian had no idea if that were due to the fact that they both were at their wits ends, or if Marcus wasn't as intimidating as he first seemed.

The break of the clearing gave Darian the opportunity to step back, out of Marcus' reach. He was breathing heavily, as was Marcus. They stared at each other brief moment before Marcus charged again. Darian backed up, clumsy with his retreat, and tripped over god-knows-what.

He fell back onto the wet cold ground and cried out as a sharp pain shot through his body. He reached for his leg and saw his hand was red at the touch. Stupidly, the dagger in his pocket had gone straight through the fabric of his pants and into his leg.

"Fuck…" He groaned.

There was a chuckle from where Marcus stood. "Ouch." He closed the space between them in a couple strides and jumped on top of Darian, his weapon drawn and ready.

Darian had barely a moment to get an arm up to keep the blade from sinking into his chest. Kelsa's face flashed in the back of his mind, sparking his rage, and the desire to live, no, the desire to _kill_ took over once more. He reached for the ax, hoping it was close by.

"You are _worse_ than us," Darian said, his eyes shooting daggers into Marcus', "We just wanted a better life, and you killed us for it."

Marcus was thrown off by his words, but he added his free hand to the blade and started pushing down harder. The point of the blade bit his skin and, miraculously, Darian grabbed hold of the ax handle. He swung it against the first place he could reach, which happened to be Marcus's hip.

Marcus swore and let go of his hold on the blade, releasing Darian from its impending threat. He shoved Marcus off him, reached into his pocket, pulled the dagger from his leg and pocket, and got as best a grip on it as he could with a bloodied hand. Marcus wouldn't be leaving the clearing alive. Darian would kill him outright if he even tried.

He could read Marcus' expression as his bloodied body shifted to find the ax, and the two lunged for it, each getting a hand on it. Marcus kneed Darian's injured leg and, in reaction, Darian let go of the ax. A second later the ax was swinging down on him, but the will to live… to end this… fueled his movements.

The ax struck Darian's arm, Darian stabbed blindly, but harshly, and the dagger embedded itself in Marcus' chest. The boy from seven fell to his back, his breath heavy. The swell of his rage circled his heart, and head, in victory. This was it.

Darian felt no pain as he pushed himself to his knees. His whole body was shaking, but from what he couldn't pinpoint. In that moment he was nothing but the predator, the hunter. He picked up the ax with his good arm and turned it so the blunt end was facing Marcus. Darian spit in his face and Marcus knew it was over.

"For Kelsa."

He brought the ax down with every ounce of strength, every bit of rage, and smashed Marcus' skull in. And once he started, it was hard to stop, every last thing he had neglected to feel, had neglected to think, came pouring out of him in the form utter violence. It was all he had left.

The hatred hadn't left him, it had just bottled up into a deadly and explosive final act of self.

One swing took him sideways, and he fell, unable to keep his balance. Spots clouded his vision, the pain set in, and for the first time in a while, he was able to _feel._

Darian cried. His cries turned to sobs until there was nothing left about him that was conscious.


	11. After

**After**

There was a beeping when Darian finally came to. Unconsciousness clung to him, bringing him back into the depths, but at the very last second, something would surge through him and he would rise to the surface again. This pattern continued on until his detached will to be awake won out, and Darian opened his eyes.

The room was dark with nothing but a soft yellow light fighting to illuminate it. At first, it was peaceful. His body wasn't in pain, he wasn't surrounded by death, it was just him in a room.

He and two others.

The first was a medical worker of sorts. He stood a step away from Darian's bedside, but said nothing. He was holding a syringe and the sight of it struck a fear in Darian. Where the fear had come from, he wasn't sure, but it was apparent.

The second was none other than President Cross in the flesh.

Darian shot up and scrambled off the bed. The unconsciousness that held onto him made his movements sluggish and he ended up face down on the cold floor. It didn't stop his drive, however, and in a few slow seconds, he was on his feet once more. Dizziness swarmed his head and he leaned a hand on the bed for support.

His arm was covered in wires and tubes. Everything seemed to have an entrance point. He screamed, raspy and pathetic, and ripped everything off his arm in brash, terrified motions before taking off towards the door.

A foot crossed his path and Darian sprawled to the floor again, and that time, it was much harder to get up. His energy was spent already.

Cross stepped beside him and bent down. Upon getting a closer look, Darian saw specks of dried blood on his face, and the start of a purple bruise. Cross smirked wickedly and pulled Darian's head back.

"Your doing… if you were wondering." He voice was smooth, almost digital as he spoke. It hardly sounded human. "When they told me they were waking you up today, I couldn't miss it. My first victor. The violent rage in which you awoke was… _enticing_."

Darian was hoisted to his feet by the other man in the room, his body limp. Clearly, this was on purpose.

Cross continued, the two of them now face to face. "Third time's a charm, I see. You know, I wasn't sure about you when this all started. But I must say, you are quite the _killer_ , Mr. Hale."

Maybe it was the silky sweet tone of Cross' voice or the shit they had pumped into him, but a swarming sensation of nausea overtook Darian and he lost control of the contents of his stomach.

Cross chuckled. "It will pass, Darian. All of it. But the legacy we have birthed… _that_ will be eternal. I, the genius puppeteer, and you, my deadly puppet."

An involuntary grunt slipped from Darian's lips to which Cross smiled again. "Get him some food, a shower, handcuffs, perhaps? I need him ready in two days."

A foul hand swept through Darian's hair, Darian unable to turn away from it, and Cross was gone. The man who held him gently placed him back on the bed.

"I'll have a nurse come in and help with your fresh wounds." The man said and pointed to his arm. Darian hadn't even noticed the line of blood that was trickling from his inner elbow.

He nodded. The man didn't seem like he wanted to harm Darian, but after what he had recently gone through, he was wary of everyone. Pocketing the syringe, the man took his leave and was quickly replaced by half a dozen nurses.

He didn't feel ready to face the world only two days after resurfacing into it. It was overwhelming in the least to be surrounded by people… to be _congratulated_ … all while each and every person seemed to tiptoe around him.

Even Bristol left her snark at home.

"Darian," She said when she saw him in the lobby of some Capitol building in which he had been 'recovering'. "It's nice to see you."

Darian was no master at reading expression, but he could tell from her demeanor that she thought he would try and stab her right there. He kept still and merely looked at her. Part of him wanted to scare her, the other just wanted her to walk away. He was already surrounded by peacekeepers every waking and sleeping moment, Darian didn't need Bristol around him too.

The handcuffs were tight on his suit and that was purposeful. Darian had learned that he had been put in a coma for a couple weeks upon the ending of the games. Not only had he attacked everyone who tried to touch him, but he had become a danger to himself as well. It had taken them three attempts to properly bring him out of it, each time he had to be more sedated.

People were convinced that the games had turned him into a monster. Some thought he was a monster to begin with. Darian hadn't decided, yet, which team he was on.

His reawakening had sparked something in the Capitol. He was going to be paraded out in front of the citizens for them to catch a glimpse of the brutal winner of their precious games, and the whole city was buzzing. They had given him a makeover. Every scar and blemish covered or masked, he had a nice haircut, was in a suit. He barely recognized himself in the window's reflection.

A camera flashed outside the window, and suddenly Darian was in the spotlight. A load of Capitol citizens swarmed the lobby windows and began taking pictures of him. He shied away from them, but was soon joined by President Cross and Bristol who only fueled the frenzy. They posed briefly before having Darian hauled off to a train.

The train ride was quiet. Cross caused a tension in Darian that nearly suffocated him and he was truly glad to be escorted out of the train and away from the vile man. Darian was led to the base of the arena and there stood one single chariot. It was gold, fit for a champion. As much as Darian had been denying it, _he had won_.

There was a fear in him that he would have to recount the events of the games for the audience. Would he be able to tell them exactly what happened? Did they actually know what the games were? The more Darian thought about it, the less he knew about the Capitol's hand in it.

Why did he even care?

Darian was placed in the chariot and handcuffed to it. Cross stepped in next to him and the woman from before the games was on his other side. She patted Darian on the shoulder like they were old friends and the chariot took off into the arena.

Like before, the arena was packed, but this time, there was not an open space in the whole place. While the roar of the crowd nearly burst his eardrum, there was something different in the air. The crowd was wild. Maybe they were anxious for what was the come… anxious for Darian's side of the story.

Twenty-four went in. Darian came out.

It was then that Darian noticed the large screens at the end of the arena. It was hard for him to register what was playing on it, but as the pictures, the _videos_ , flashed from clip to the clip, he was smacked with the realization.

The screens were playing the games, specifically Darian's kills, over and over. It started with the large circle, Branwen dying, and moved on from there. He watched in utter horror as the many people he faced fell. He couldn't tear his eyes away from it. The entire time he was struggling to keep the people he loved alive, they were filming him.

His knees buckled when the screen showed Kelsa in his arms. The Capitol was seeing this. All of them were getting a playback of his worst moments. Cross and the woman lifted him so he was standing, but the tightening in his chest, the jelly in his legs, only worsened when they touched him.

"You filmed it." He managed, and it took all his strength to do just that.

Cross waved, his brilliant smile ever present. "We didn't mention you were being watched?" The woman next to him chuckled as she lifted Darian's chin for the crowd.

He couldn't resist, he couldn't fight, he couldn't do anything. The screen replayed the 'final battle' (as it read on the bottom of the screen) and Darian grit his teeth. He wanted to face it, but there was nothing but weakness left. His eyes closed and he did everything he could to escape that moment.

The roar of the crowd made more sense now. They weren't welcoming their victor ready to hear about his experiences, they were screaming at a murderer… one they had been with since the very fucking beginning. Sick fucks.

Bristol clapped for him when he was returned to the isolation of his room. It was different than where he was kept before the games, less of a cell, but a prison nonetheless. She had been waiting for him at the dining table with a plethora of foods.

"Wonderful performance." She started. He didn't know why, but he sat. "I was impressed."

A servant came by and made a plate for him, but he wouldn't touch it. There was too much on his mind. Clearing his throat, he faced Bristol. "Who all has seen it?"

"Everyone."

"The districts?"

She nodded. He sat back in his chair. When life doled out punishment, Darian seemed to be getting extra doses.

"My mother…"

"She, especially."

The room was spinning. He knew it would come eventually, but he was hardly prepared for the onset of guilt and shame. He was trapped in his body, then. He couldn't escape what he'd done, what he was forced to… _chose_ to do. Darian would have given anything to leave his body and go someplace else.

He rested a hand on the table to steady himself. The sedation was gone at that point. His instability was his body rejecting his soul…. Rejecting the thing he had become. "I want to see it." His voice cracked as he spoke.

She clarified, "The Games?"

The movements of agreement were hard for him, but he knew he would never be able to rest until he saw it all. He had to know everything that happened. He had to know what his mother saw.

Most importantly, he had to see himself.

Bristol stood and walked over to the television screen. It didn't take her long to bring up the footage. "Come here."

Her voice was a strange mix of nurturing and seductive. She was enjoying it.

Darian relocated to the sitting room. Bristol glanced back him. "You're going to want to sit for this."

She started the reel and Darian wasn't sure he could feel more defeated.

It started from the beginning and played until the bloody end. Every kill, every death, every little thing they did had been filmed. Some of the camera angles were odd, blurry even, but Darian was far more concerned with what was happening. Most people died in the freeze. It should have been a good thing that there wasn't as much outright murder as he had originally thought, but it confirmed that his game had been exceptionally different from the others.

It was poetic that Marcus and Darian had been the last ones standing. They had killed the most people. Their body counts were the highest.

When it was over, Darian barely knew which way was up.

Bristol offered a guiding hand to help him sit on the couch but he shoved her away. "Don't touch me…"

Her expression was unreadable, as was everything else. Darian had killed people. He had tried to save everyone, lost them all, killed those who stood in his way. That was how he handled it. He had played right into their hands.

"Rest up, Darian. Tomorrow, we send you back to the rotting wasteland from which you came."


	12. Home

**Home**

The train ride home was daunting. While it sped soundlessly through the trees towards District Two, Darian sat, head down, thinking about what was to come. Time was lost on him. He had no idea how long he had been gone, and he was truly too scared to ask. How would he face his mother? Iraria's father?

Everything he had planned to do when he was first whisked off to the Capitol had failed. He played right into the hands of President Cross.

Now, it was time to own up to the atrocities.

Part of him rebelled against the idea. He was a victim in all of this. Darian had only been doing his best to survive. He couldn't have known it would all turn out the way it had. He truly had no idea he would have been alive to see this day unfold.

The other part of him was purely ashamed. In times of conflict, Darian had chosen the path of violence. That was unexpected. That was what Cross wanted from them all. The twenty-four of them who were chosen didn't have to fall into chaos like they did.

Bristol sat across from him. Her fear of him had subsided some over the recent time spent, and Darian didn't know whether or not that was a good thing. She still kept her distance, but the superior look she gave him every time he lifted his head was more than he could handle.

He kept his head down until the train finally came to a stop. Once it did, his body felt like lead. How could be possibly do this? How was it even possible to recover from such an event?

Somehow, he got his legs to move and slogged off the train.

He should have been expecting it. He should have been thinking over every additional way the Capitol would punch him in the gut, but he didn't. On the screen outside the town hall, renamed Justice Building, was the recap of Darian in the Games. Just like in the final victory parade, the screen flashed through all his worst, arguably best to the Capitol, moments from the Games.

Could his heart sink any lower?

The whole district (or his section of it), seemed to be in attendance for his homecoming. Their expressions told him more than he could have ever guessed. Each and every one of them was completely horrified. Darian hands began to shake violently.

Bristol put a hand on his forearm and gave it a little squeeze. "Breathe. I can't have you passing out." Her smiled was plastered on her face as she guided Darian up the steps of the Justice Building. As he walked behind Bristol, Darian scanned the crowd for his mother. Upon his initial look, he couldn't see her anywhere. His mind whirled with all the terrible possibilities of her whereabouts.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. It has been a short while coming, but your champion of the Games has finally returned. Darian Hale!" Bristol stepped aside, clapping loudly, obnoxiously almost.

No one clapped in return. The shock was too much.

"Now where is Mrs. Hale?" Bristol's voice in the microphone was shrill.

The crowds parted and somewhere in the middle stood Darian's mother. Her hair wisped around her face in the soft breeze, and she kept her head down much like Darian had on the train. Darian was nearly numb as he laid eyes on her.

"Come on down, Mrs. Hale. Let us all witness this happy family reunion." Bristol motioned to the peacekeepers, and a group of them surrounded his mother and ushered her forward to the stage. She walked slowly, creeping along the path to the front; her reluctance was obvious.

Their gazes met when she stopped next to him, and he could see they were riddled with pain… or was it disappointment? Still, she wrapped her arms around him tightly. The crowd clapped, or some people clapped, Darian was more distracted by his mother. She was thin when he held her. Was she always that way? Or had things changed for him so much that he couldn't remember?

"It's nice… the reunion of mother and son." Bristol's voice pulled him from his thoughts and he stepped away from her, but only a step. Part of him wanted to run from her. He was so ashamed of the things that flickered on the screen behind him. The other stayed close by her. She was his mother, his family…

He was finally home.

And his life, Darian was sure, would be filled with constant internal conflict.

Dinner that night was a silent one, which didn't make much sense considering it included Mr. Rosewood and Iraria's two younger sisters. Darian couldn't look at a single one of them. Each reminded him more and more of Iraria, and her dead figure flashed in his mind every time he closed his eyes. One of the girls, Alya, even sounded like her. His appetite diminished, but he forced the food down.

He was a stranger in his own house. Mr. Rosewood sat where his father used to, the Rosewood girls surrounded his mother. Darian had been replaced. He couldn't blame his mother. She had explained only briefly that she and Steven had "grown closer throughout their trials" and that was all.

He could only assume the worst, or best. Darian had no right to assume anything. He had no right to care.

Chairs scraped as the two girls finished up their meals. Alya dutifully helped her sister down from the chair and cleaned up their plates before getting so close to him, he got lightheaded. "May we watch your television, Mrs. Hale?"

It was as if Iraria was there with him. Darian clenched a fist under the table. 

"Of course, you may," his mother chimed, her fondness for the girls apparent. "And call me Jane."

As the eldest Rosewood daughter walked away from the table, Darian stood. "Thank you for the meal. I need a walk."

Jane made to reach out for him, but Steven's hand rested elegantly against hers. "How about I walk you out? I could use a quick breath of fresh air." Steven put his napkin down on the table and stood as well.

Darian wanted to object, but the guilt wouldn't let him. Iraria was gone despite Darian's efforts to save her. Steven Rosewood lost his eldest child, Darian felt completely responsible. He nodded to the man and they headed out into the crisp night air.

"I wanted to thank you," he started. "You did all you could to save my baby—" he choked up, hardly able to continue. "Thank you… I—" Unable to finish, he nodded once more and stepped back towards the door. 

Darian nodded back, looking to the ground. "I'm sorry." His spirit was crushed, and Steven was thanking him.

The man patted him on the back and went back inside. It was all that needed to be said.

Darian walked until he was numb from the cold.

The trains pulled into the station the next morning as such speeds, Darian was almost positive they would derail as they came to an almost screeching halt. From his bedroom window, he could see the tracks. By the sheer number of peacekeepers that exited the train, Darian wasn't at all surprised when he heard the president's voice play out over the radio and T.V. screen.

" _Citizens of Panem."_ Darian's memory surged to the room in the hospital. Cross sounded so different in person. " _I, President Cross, request all citizens to gather in the town square for a special announcement._ "

The message was short and simple. Darian knew whatever was happening, he wouldn't have a say in it. He did briefly debate taking off into the trees. His body reacted in spite of his mind and started shaking—a more frequent occurrence since he had been home.

His mother took a few deep breaths and grabbed her jacket. "Come on, Darian…" There was something left unsaid, but he couldn't ask what. Talking to his mother had become the hardest thing to do. Darian was lucky in that she spent the majority of her time with Steven.

The temperatures had dropped to freezing levels. They lived close to the Justice building, so they had to wait a good hour in the bitter cold while those who had been moved to different areas of the district could be transported to the town square. By the time most everyone was accounted for, the people were packed in like sardines.

Except for Darian.

The people of Distract Two gave him a wide berth—rejected by some but avoided by most. He had become quickly adjusted to the life of solitude.

" _I welcome you all, Citizens of Panem, to finale of the Rebellion. For years, the Rebellion plagued our great nation, and I, your President, have taken care in collecting the leaders who attempted to fracture us..."_

Darian's heart pounded in his chest. President Cross continued talking, but Darian couldn't hear his voice—he couldn't hear anything. The peacekeepers parted on the steps of the Justice Building, and there, looking ragged, beaten, and run down, was his father.

Flashbacks of everything sprang to his mind: his father taking over the train lines, his father first calling all the district leaders to Two for a meeting, his father stepping onto the train for the last time. He stomach clenched in a way that was becoming all too familiar now.

His father was going to die. Darian knew it before the head peacekeeper pulled out his gun and casually stepped into the spotlight.

"... _may this be a reminder_ …"

Darian couldn't quite make out what Cross was saying; the blood pumping through his body was distorting all sounds around him.

The peacekeepers holding his father kicked in his knees, and the once invulnerable hero of the Rebellion collapsed to the concrete below him.

"... _may we move on from here a stronger, better nation_ …"

His feet moved without thought, and Darian ran through the crowd, aided by the breaks in the crowd to avoid him. He hardly registered his mother next him until she knocked into his shoulder, sprinting past him. Her cheeks were wet from tears, her mouth open from shouting something.

"... _may the odds be ever in our favor_."

The resounding shot yanked Darian from his state, bringing him to a halt. His father's body slumped to the side and slid down the steps. The sight of it caused him to double over and purge his breakfast. The screams that followed were nothing short of comforting; it wasn't just horrific for him.

His mother didn't stop. She continued on until she was paces from the peacekeeper. He turned on her ruthlessly, aimed the gun and pulled the trigger without hesitation. Her frail body fell an arm's length away from her late husband as if she had tripped.

Darian's scream was louder than the rest, and the crowd quieted down because of it. His stomach flipped, his rage subsided, and the only feeling left was emptiness. In an instant, she was gone. They both were.

He had nothing left.

The Capitol had taken everything from him.

Darian inched towards his slain parents, unaware of the tears that fell freely down his cheeks. If he could just touch them, shake them… be with them.

"Kill me…" he mumbled. "Kill me."

Perhaps they would take him away as well. He made it to his parents and dropped to his knees. Oddly enough, they looked peaceful. And that was all he ever wanted—peace. That was all anyone ever wanted. It was why there was a rebellion in the first place.

He struck out and grabbed the gun of the head peacekeeper and held it to his forehead.

Maybe he could have peace.

"KILL ME! KILL ME! KILLMEKILLMEKILLME…"


	13. The Beginning

Darian was blinded by the intruding sunlight. It was always the same ray every morning, which meant he had fallen asleep in his armchair again. The empty bottle on his lap only furthered his assumptions.

He jumped when someone tapped the window. Her face appeared a moment later, a smug look present in her features. Once he saw her, he relaxed some and motioned to the front door. Pulling himself from the armchair, he checked to make sure he was dressed and glided to the door. A few clicks of the locks and the door opened.

Bristol stood in full glory, two peacekeepers flanking her. She gave him the once over and stepped through the threshold. "You've let yourself go."

Darian shrugged and stepped aside. She wasn't wrong. He looked around his place and saw how bare it was. When he started building it, it was a distraction… Now it was an unfinished project he would get to eventually. "Morning," he said after a moment of silence.

"Given your state, I'm assuming you haven't gotten our messages." Her tone was clipped, and that made Darian smile. Anything to annoy her.

His Games has blasted Bristol into instant fame. He had become somewhat of a legend himself. The first victor. The first victim. And so the cycle would continue. Victors and victims.

"I'm tech free up here… your messengers don't want to take the hike." He knew no one was brave enough to come up to mountain alone. They were afraid even in packs.

Bristol widened her stance, and Darian noticed the outline of a gun strapped to her leg. She and her peacekeepers were ready to kill him if need be. It meant they were here on business, not just for a checkup.

"It's been ten years, Darian. You will make an appearance. The reaping for the Hunger Games is—"

"Is that what they are calling it, now?" Darian interrupted. "The _Hunger_ Games?"

Bristol lowered her chin, a coy smile working through her lips. "Ten years of tributes starving… a name comes about. The Capitol embraced it."

Darian clicked his tongue and turned away. "I won't have any part of this anymore. Just like I told those parents—"

"What are you talking about, Darian? You _are_ this. You started this. Set the standard. The Hunger Games is _nothing_ without you. You can run, but you can't hide. You are infamous—a legend. Tomorrow is ten years. I've been instructed to bring you, even if it means dragging your corpse down this godforsaken mountain."

He eyed the gun. He believed her. His hands shook, and Darian struggled to calm them. The alcohol helped most nights, but it was becoming a permanent feature of his.

"Now," she continued, "come with us. We are going to clean you up and parade you around. The ninth victor was from District Two, and this year people are talking about the tenth victor continuing the winning streak."

He gritted his teeth and made to lunge at her, but two guns locked and loaded extended to his legs.

Amusement crossed her features. "Oh, I didn't mention… we've been told only to kill you as the last possible option. We will tear you limb from limb before we get down to executing you."

The noose of the Capitol tightened around his neck again, and he struggled to catch his breath. Upon his begging for death all those years ago, he was taken in by the Capitol until he could be controlled. After about a year, he bargained a life in isolation in exchange for his life. He would live if he could live away from everyone. It was the closest thing to peace he could get.

The pain faded with time. The thoughts, memories, feelings… he couldn't pull them to the forefront of his mind like he used to be able to. He exhausted his body in the day and drank at night. The cycle kept in a suspended state of existence.

His body relaxed. He really had no choice. It was this or the Capitol's idea of living, and he wouldn't go back.

Bristol pulled out a syringe from the bag hanging off her shoulder. "Good boy. Now, take this."

A sedative.

He wouldn't be causing a disturbance this time.

Darian reluctantly held out his arm. The closest peacekeeper stuck him with the needle, and the drug rush was immediate. Darian became complacent, his body felt heavier and his mind seemed to wander without aim.

First, they came for his isolation.

Darian was escorted from his mountain oasis to some facility where he was washed, shaved, and dressed the day of the reaping. Early on, his finger was pricked, blood smear recorded, and he was handcuffed and sent out to join the ninth victor of the Hunger Games.

He was sixteen, large, and beastly looking. He held his head high, an air of pride surrounding him. The looks he got were of admiration, awe. Darian could see the cracks in the facade. The boy was tense, he wouldn't look at the screen nor anyone from the Capitol. His smile was empty when he attempted it. He shuffled his hands as if he was waiting for something to happen, something bad.

While Darian knew nothing about this boy, he felt akin to him. Maybe his psyche wasn't as fractured as Darian's, but the two shared something no one else did. They were victors.

On the sidelines, Bristol handled a mask, and just like that, an image of Troy being muzzled at the interview flashed to the forefront of his mind. Following Troy was an image of Iraria stepping up on stage, and Darian felt himself sinking into the chair. The shakes worsened, and small beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

He closed his eyes tightly and waited for the feeling to pass, for the spinning of the world to halt.

Cross' voice shattered the barrier of his resolve, and he fell off his chair.

He didn't want to be there. He had to get away.

Some peacekeepers helped him to his feet, and a joke was made about the luxurious life of a victor making him sloppy… lazy. The crowd joined in with the laughter, and Bristol took her place at the podium. She spoke of the victors mentoring the tributes, and even Darian knew that did not include him. The ninth victor would take on that role.

He had heard rumors of some of the previous victors helping the tributes. It was never an official thing, but Darian had thrown out many a parents asking for him to help their children. He had nothing to offer. He couldn't teach them anything… he knew nothing.

Two kids were chosen. It was the first time Darian had seen the reaping like this. The first reaping wasn't random. It was carefully planned, but this was easily a random draw. The anxiety of the crowd was palpable; the children chosen were in shock. Darian was in shock. They were so young, so naive.

They would both be dead unless the ninth had anything worthwhile to tell him. They could both be murderers and join the nine before them if their will was strong enough.

If he wanted to cry, the tears wouldn't come. Everyone around him was crying, it seemed, but Darian was nothing. Perhaps it was the drugs.

They came for his sanctuary next.

The tenth victor was from Two, and they decided Darian's hilltop would be used to make special houses for the growing Victor population. The ninth and tenth were seen as heroes. They secretly trained some of those who wanted to have any skills before they were potentially reaped.

As time passed, those training sessions became schools. Those who entered them young volunteered themselves to enter the arena. The village of victors grew every year as Two became the most frequent champion district.

Darian spoke to none of them. He kept to his sad shack of a house and continued his life in the only way he knew how—isolation.

Districts One and Four joined in with schools, as more of their tributes were victorious. A rivalry of sorts started, and the pain Darian endured, the trauma, slipped from the minds of the District of Champions. Life improved for the citizens of Two as their loyalties shifted more towards the Capitol. It wasn't great, but it was "better" than it was before.

The first victor was soon forgotten, only to be remembered in stories of curious young ones. His portrayal was warped over time. Instead of the son of a rebel, he was the birth of a victor-state. The first champion… a ruthless killer who wanted glory for District Two.

Finally, they came for him.

And he had his peace.


End file.
